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THE  FLAME 


THE  FLAME 


BY 

LOUISE  E.   TABER 


NEW  YORK 

THE  ALICE  HARRIMAN  COMPANY 
1911 


Copyright,  1911,  by 
THE  ALICE  HARRIMAN  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 


DEDICATED 
TO 

W.  C.  MORROW 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  AND  INSPIRING  TEACHER 


THE  FLAME 


THE  FLAME 


CHAPTER  I 

PRINCE  JEAN  MARIE  GERARD  PHILIPPE 
DE  BOURBON,  duelist,  gambler,  romancer, 
and,  incidentally,  fortune-hunter  in  America,  sat  in  his 
luxurious  apartments  in  the  Fairmont  Hotel  with  his 
eyes  straying  indifferently  over  the  Bay  of  San 
Francisco.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  and  the  set 
ting  sun  tinged  the  eastern  sky  with  a  rainbow  of 
delicate  coloring.  His  Highness  of  Bourbon  was 
not  conscious  of  the  charms  that  nature  has  scattered 
with  a  lavish  hand  over  the  territory  lying  within  the 
Golden  Gate.  Neither  the  green-clad  Yerba  Buena 
Island,  with  its  naval  school,  lying  imposingly  in  the 
greenish-blue  water,  nor  the  panorama  of  the  city 
below  him,  attracted  his  attention.  He  was  not  think 
ing  of  the  mammoth  buildings  that  in  three  years  had 
arisen  in  the  desolation  caused  by  the  disaster  in 
1906;  it  was  not  the  new  San  Francisco  that  was  in 
teresting  him  now,  but  the  annexing  of  many  mil 
lions  of  dollars  to  his  own  shattered  fortune  that  was 
occupying  his  thoughts.  Prince  Jean  Marie  was 
congratulating  himself  over  the  clever  game  he  felt 
that  he  had  played  by  coming  to  far-away  San  Fran 
cisco  in  search  of  a  gilded  bride,  instead  of  remain- 

9 


10  THE    FLAME 

ing  in  New  York,  the  fortune-seeker's  hunting 
ground.  He  had  strayed  from  the  beaten  path,  and 
flattered  himself  that  the  venture  would  prove  success 
ful.  Having  inquired  into  all  the  marriageable  for 
tunes  in  the  city,  he  had  decided  that  the  one  most 
befitting  his  needs  was  that  possessed  by  the  pretty 
and  petite  Gwendolyn  Rolfe,  who,  from  his  viewpoint, 
was  the  most  desirable  debutante  of  the  season,  since 
she  was  ignorant  of  the  frivolities  of  the  world,  es 
pecially  those  with  which  he  was  satiated.  She  was 
the  ideal  wife  for  the  man  who  had  run  the  gamut  of 
adventures  and  pleasures  in  the  French  capital.  Her 
mother  and  father  were  dead,  and  her  only  protector 
was  her  brother,  who  was  the  trustee  of  her  estate, 
which  was  known  to  be  fifty  million  dollars. 

The  thought  of  this  wealth  brought  a  slow  smile  of 
satisfaction  to  His  Highness's  delicately  chiseled  lips. 
He  leisurely  blew  a  thin  thread  of  smoke  into  the  air 
and  tossed  his  expensive  cigarette  into  the  gold  and 
enamel  ash  tray  that  bore  his  coronet.  Stretching 
out  comfortably,  he  rested  his  slim,  slippered  feet  on 
the  seat  of  a  gilt  chair  upholstered  in  rose  brocade. 
All  the  furniture  in  the  three  rooms  he  occupied  had 
been  upholstered  anew,  because  his  aristocratic  and 
sensitive  nature  rebelled  against  using  what  had  been 
the  common  property  of  the  plebeian  millionaires  who 
had  occupied  the  rooms  before  him.  Marrying  an 
American  heiress  was  all  the  plebeianism  he  could  en 
dure.  But  he  consoled  himself  that  Gwendolyn  was 
refined,  not  "  loud  "  and  independent  like  some  heir 
esses  he  had  met  over  here  in  the  New  World,  al 
though  he  wished  that  she  had  more  of  the  reserve  and 


THE     FLAME  11 

dignity  that  noble  blood  gives  to  the  grand  dames  of 
Europe.  Perhaps  he  could  teach  her  this  "  distinc 
tion."  She  was  still  a  child. 

His  Highness  felt  very  confident  that  he  had  won 
Gwendolyn's  favor.  The  only  obstacle  was  her 
brother,  who  was  very  keen  on  the  subject  of  money 
and  morality.  Jean  Marie  thought  that  he  could 
satisfy  Richard  Rolfe  on  the  question  of  morality, 
for,  although  his  life  had  been  most  irregular,  he  never 
had  been  connected  with  a  notorious  scandal.  And 
then,  Paris  is  quite  a  distance  from  San  Francisco, 
and  Richard  Rolfe  was  not  fond  of  travel,  nor  did  he 
speak  French. 

His  Highness  was,  however,  perturbed  over  the 
presence  of  Mario  Cavarodossi,  an  untitled  Italian  of 
good  birth.  Mr.  Rolfe  expressed  a  friendship  and 
partiality  for  this  Italian  that  exerted  a  disquieting 
influence  over  the  Prince,  because  he  could  see  that 
Gwendolyn  also  was  pleased  with  him,  but  he  tried  to 
convince  himself  that  she  would  not  prefer  an  untitled 
commoner  to  His  Highness  Prince  Jean  Marie 
Gerard  Philippe  de  Bourbon.  And  then  his  own  per 
sonal  attractiveness ! 

His  Highness  drew  his  gray  silk  dressing  gown 
closely  about  his  slender,  dapper  form  and  rested  his 
head  against  the  back  of  his  chair.  With  the  tips 
of  his  fingers  pressed  lightly  together,  he  gazed  up  at 
the  deep  border  of  red  roses  on  the  white  wall  paper 
and  another  self-satisfied  smile  stole  over  his  lips. 
He  was  good-looking  and  he  knew  it.  His  black, 
wavy  hair  was  silky;  his  brown  eyes  were  mild  one 
moment,  sparkling  the  next,  and  always  expressive; 


12  THEFLAME 

his  nose  was  finely  shaped  and  delicately  chiseled,  and 
his  oval  face  had  a  poetic  contour. 

"  Fra^ois !  "  he  called.  His  voice  was  soft  and 
musical,  and  he  spoke  with  a  slight  drawl  that  was 
habitual. 

The  servant  hurried  out  of  the  green  bedroom  and 
bowed  deeply. 

"  Bring  me  the  letter  I  received  an  hour  ago." 

Fran9ois  disappeared  into  the  blue  "  study,"  took 
an  envelope  from  the  elaborately  carved  table,  laid  it 
on  a  salver  and  carried  it  to  His  Highness,  after 
which  he  noiselessly  retired,  turning  again  at  the 
door  to  bow  before  his  master. 

A  delicate  heliotrope  perfume  rose  from  the  laven 
der  paper  as  Jean  Marie  drew  the  letter  from  the  en 
velope. 

"  I  hope  Your  Highness  will  give  us  the  honor  of 
your  presence  at  an  informal  dinner  to-morrow  even 
ing,"  he  read.  "  I  need  not  add  how  grieved  I  shall 
be  if  you  disappoint  me,  because  you  know  how  I 
enjoy  your  company  and  how  I  count  upon  your  wit 
and  cleverness.  You  are  such  a  gracious  enter 
tainer  !  " 

Jean  Marie  slipped  the  letter  back  into  the  envelope 
and  tossed  it  on  a  table.  It  gratified  him  that  Gwen 
dolyn  was  beginning  to  understand  that  he  was  neces 
sary  to  her.  She  realized  that  she  was  not  his  equal 
in  cleverness.  It  was  something  even  to  have  im 
pressed  her  with  his  superiority,  his  "  distinction." 

It  was  growing  dark,  and  His  Highness  called 
Fran9ois  to  light  the  room  and  order  dinner  served 
in  the  apartments.  Going  into  his  "  study,"  the 


THEFLAME  13 

Prince  sat  down  to  his  desk  and  drew  out  some  gray 
letter  paper  which  bore  his  coronet  in  mother-of- 
pearl.  He  wrote : 

Adorable  Mademoiselle: 

As  the  birds  at  early  morn,  overjoyed 
and  inspired  by  the  glorious  sun,  flutter 
their  wings  and  indulge  in  song,  so  I,  an 
hour  ago,  intoxicated  with  joy  when  the 
sweet  fragrance  of  the  heliotrope  arose  from 
your  dear  note,  tossed  back  my  head  and 
sang !  Yes,  sang  with  sheer  delight ! 

You  need  not  fear  that  I  shall  disappoint 
you  to-morrow  evening.  Have  I  ever  neg 
lected  an  opportunity  that  would  bring  me 
to  your  side?  Ah,  Mademoiselle!  —  What 
a  world  of  feeling  there  is  in  a  sigh ! 

Au  revoir!  In  homage  I  place  myself 
at  your  feet. 

JEAN   MARIE  DE  BOURBON. 

The  Prince  laughed  softly  as  he  closed  the  letter 
and  addressed  it.  If  Gwendolyn  could  see  some  of 
the  sirens  who  had  accepted  his  adoration,  would  she 
believe  that  he  humbly  placed  himself  at  her  feet? 
But  he  knew  that  she  was  thrilled  at  the  mention  of 
birds  and  flowers  and  music.  The  innocent  child ! 

The  Prince  sat  down  to  dinner  in  his  dressing  gown, 
and  Fra^ois  served  him.  His  meal  consisted  of  the 
daintiest  food  and  the  choicest  wines.  When  the 
table  was  cleared  away,  His  Highness  took  a  novel 
and  stretched  himself  out  in  an  easy  chair  at  the  win- 


14  THEFLAME 

dow  at  the  end  of  the  room.  He  drew  aside  the  tan 
silk  draperies  and  occasionally  raised  his  eyes  from 
the  book  and  let  them  drift  over  the  bay  to  the  lights 
that  twinkled  like  golden  stars  on  the  opposite  shore. 
He  felt  extremely  comfortable  and  at  peace  with  all 
the  world. 

Two  impatient,  compelling  knocks  fell  upon  the 
door. 

"  See  who  it  is,  Fran£ois,  but  I  am  not  at  home  to 
callers,"  said  the  Prince  in  a  low  tone. 

The  valet  opened  the  door. 

"  His  Highness  is  not  —  Madame !  "  Fra^ois 
stood  transfixed. 

The  woman  brushed  past  him  and  swept  into  the 
room  before  he  could  hinder  her. 

The  Prince  glanced  up,  dropped  his  book,  and 
sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Camille ! "  The  name  fell  from  his  lips  with  a 
gasp,  and  the  color  faded  from  his  face;  it  rose,  and 
faded  again. 

With  a  laugh  of  sarcastic  triumph,  the  woman 
tossed  back  her  head  and  two  fiery  black  eyes  en 
veloped  him  with  a  mocking,  exultant  gaze  that 
quickly  softened,  only  to  rekindle  with  defiance. 

"  You  are  surprised  to  see  me,  Jean,"  she  said  in  a 
clear,  cutting  tone.  "  How  long  did  you  think  I 
would  endure  your  silence?  " 

He  did  not  answer,  but  tried  to  show  disdain,  al 
though  he  was  trembling  in  every  nerve  and  dared  not 
speak;  he  knew  his  voice  would  betray  him. 

Amusement  stole  into  her  eyes  and  she  smiled,  but 
the  next  moment  her  mobile  countenance  and  flexible 


THEFLAME  15 

voice  expressed  a  sudden  reproachful  tenderness  that 
jarred  most  uncomfortably  on  the  Prince. 

"  You  promised  to  write  by  every  steamer,"  she 
said,  "  and  you  did  for  a  month,  then  the  letters  grew 
farther  apart,  until  they  ceased.  I  haven't  received 
a  word  for  seven  months.  Had  you  forgotten  me?  " 
She  paused,  then  demanded  with  speculative  coldness, 
"  What  have  you  been  doing?  " 

"  You  know  why  I  came  to  America,"  he  harshly 
retorted.  "  I  have  been  trying  to  recover  my  for 
tune." 

"  And  you  have  been  successful?  " 

He  gave  an  angry  shrug. 

With  a  slow,  easy  step,  the  woman  came  into  the 
middle  of  the  room,  and,  puzzled,  irritated,  she  studied 
him  a  moment. 

"  Who  has  come  between  us,  Jean  ?  "  she  quietly 
asked,  but  a  challenge  flashed  from  her  eyes. 

"  No  one."  He  was  annoyed  and  fear  began  to 
grip  him,  fear  of  her  beauty,  of  her  impetuous,  vio 
lent  nature.  She  was  as  dangerous  as  a  knife  con 
cealed  in  a  handsome  sheath.  There  was  nothing  in 
his  life  that  she  did  not  know. 

"  I  have  not  written,  because  I'm  not  a  good  cor 
respondent,  that's  all,"  he  brusquely  added. 

Her  face  darkened  and  slow  anger  began  to  burn 
in  her  eyes. 

"  Who  has  come  between  us  ?  "  she  insistently  re 
peated,  but  there  was  a  purring  tone  in  her  voice  that 
affected  him  unpleasantly. 

He  forced  a  light  laugh.  "  Are  you  jealous, 
Camille?  I  didn't  think  you  cared  so  much." 


16  THEFLAME 

The  fire  in  her  eyes  flared  and  she  sprang  forward 
and  seized  Gwendolyn's  letter,  which  he  had  tossed 
upon  the  table.  But  she  could  not  read  English. 
She  impatiently  flung  off  the  black  velvet  mantle  that 
was  slipping  from  her  bare  shoulders.  Her  faultless 
figure  was  revealed  in  all  its  perfection  by  the  sleeve 
less  black  satin  princess  gown,  cut  very  low.  The 
whiteness  of  her  skin  contrasted  vividly  with  her 
gown  and  her  black,  glossy  hair,  in  which  sparkled  a 
diamond  star.  Her  lips  were  perfectly  curved  and 
very  red,  and  the  classical  contour  of  her  face  made  it 
strikingly  handsome  and  expressive.  She  was  per 
haps  twenty-five,  and  in  the  prime  of  beauty.  Jean 
Marie  realized  this  as  he  watched  her,  and  the  old  in 
fatuation  began  to  throb  again  in  his  heart  and  with 
it  the  same  uncertainty  of  her  next  move.  He  had  al 
ways  feared  her  as  much  as  he  had  loved  her.  What  a 
difference  between  this  glowing  creature  and  little 
Gwendolyn  Rolfe !  Several  times  he  had  grown  tired 
of  Camille  Dubray  because  of  her  uncertainty  and  her 
whirlwind  vivacity,  and  had  cast  her  aside  for  some 
new  beauty  from  the  dance  halls.  But  now  she  stirred 
his  blood  as  she  did  the  day  he  first  beheld  her. 

"  A  woman !  "  she  said,  as  she  glanced  from  the 
letter  to  the  Prince.  A  faint  color  rose  to  her  cheeks 
and  the  challenge  returned  to  her  eyes.  "  I  knew  it ! 
Why  else  have  you  been  silent  all  these  months?  " 

"  That  is  merely  an  invitation  to  an  informal  din 
ner,"  was  his  impatient  answer. 

She   smiled  and   sharply   called,   "  Fra^ois !  " 

The  valet  came  from  the  bedroom,  into  which  he 


THEFLAME  17 

had  retreated,  and  glanced  at  the  Prince  with  distress 
and  alarm. 

Camille  handed  the  letter  to  him.  "  Read  this  to 
me,  Fran9ois, —  I  can  only  speak  English, —  and  read 
it  correctly." 

"  Monsieur !  "  the  valet  pleaded. 

The  Prince,  enraged,  took  a  threatening  step  to 
ward  Camille,  but  the  warning  look  she  flashed  at  him 
made  him  turn  aside,  and  he  went  to  the  window  and 
stood  looking  out. 

She  glanced  back  to  Fra^ois.  "  Read  the  let 
ter!" 

He  obeyed.  She  listened  eagerly  to  every  word, 
dismissed  him  with  an  imperious  wave  of  the  hand 
when  he  had  finished,  and  laughed  coldly  as  he  closed 
the  bedroom  door  behind  him.  Turning  a  chair 
round,  so  that  she  could  face  the  Prince,  she  sank 
into  it,  and  studied  the  back  of  his  head  with  an  artful 
gleam  in  her  eyes. 

"  So,"  she  said,  tauntingly,  "  the  American  girl 
uses  you  for  her  jester!  She  counts  upon  your  wit 
and  cleverness,  because  you  are  such  a  gracious  en 
tertainer!  Is  this  the  way  in  which  you  are  recover 
ing  your  fortune?  Does  she  pay  you  to  don  the  cap 
and  bells  ?  Your  uncle,  the  Due  de  Castelnau,  would 
be  charmed  to  know  of  his  nephew's  employment  in 
America ! " 

Jean  Marie  winced,  but  he  laughed  lightly. 
"  Mademoiselle  has  cleverly  discovered  my  little 
scheme  of  American  enterprise,"  he  said  with  gay 
sarcasm,  "  and  now  that  Mademoiselle  has  satisfied 


18  THEFLAME 

her  curiosity  and  regained  her  sweet  temper,  will  she 
not  look  at  the  charming  view  from  this  window? 
Over  there  in  the  water,  where  you  see  the  lights,  is 
Alcatraz  Island,  on  which  the  United  States  govern 
ment  confines  the  disorderly  soldiers.  And  beyond  is 
Angel  Island,  another  government  reservation.  It  is 
very  interesting,  isn't  it  ?  "  He  turned  to  her  with 
his  breeziest  manner,  as  if  nothing  in  the  world  con 
cerned  him  more  than  the  panorama  seen  from  his 
windows. 

She  coldly  surveyed  him. 

"  I  did  not  come  to  San  Francisco  for  geograph 
ical  study,"  was  her  calm  reply.  "  It  was  not  to  lo 
cate  islands,  but  a  man." 

"  Mademoiselle  overwhelms  me."  He  bowed  low 
with  his  hand  pressed  to  his  heart,  then  sank  into  the 
chair  at  the  window. 

They  looked  challengingly  into  each  other's  eyes 
for  a  moment. 

"  Who  is  this  girl,  Jean  ?  "  she  demanded. 

He  shrugged  indifferently.  "  A  very  sweet  little 
thing  who  was  graduated  from  a  convent  about  a  year 
ago." 

"  She  is  rich?  " 

"  Yes.  Her  estate  is  valued  at  fifty  million  dol 
lars."  He  knew  it  would  be  useless  to  deceive  Ca- 
mille. 

"And   she  loves  you?" 

A  smile  flitted  across  the  Prince's  face,  but  he  said, 
impatiently :  "  No,  we  are  only  friends." 

"  Jean !  "  It  was  a  quick  cry  and  her  voice  quiv 
ered.  "  Don't  marry  her !  Don't !  "  She  sprang 


THEFLAME  19 

forward,  threw  herself  on  her  knees  beside  him,  and 
seized  his  hand. 

Jean  Marie  caught  a  startled  breath.  His  pulse 
quickened  at  the  familiar  touch  and  he  involuntarily 
clutched  her  fingers. 

"  Jean !  "  she  fervently  repeated,  clasping  her  arms 
round  his  neck.  "  Don't  marry  her.  It  could  never 
be  the  same  again.  Let  us  go  to  New  York.  I  can 
make  money  there  singing  in  vaudeville  or  in  a  cafe. 
Love  me  as  you  did  when  we  first  met !  "  She  pressed 
her  cheek  against  his  and  clung  to  him. 

Her  hair  scented  with  his  favorite  perfume,  her 
soft  cheek,  the  passion  in  her  voice,  thrilled  him,  and 
with  a  sudden  fierceness  he  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Camille !  "  he  murmured,  and  pressed  a  long  kiss 
on  her  ardent  lips. 

"  You  are  mine,  Jean,  mine !  I  won't  give  you  to 
another."  Her  head  sank  upon  his  shoulder  and  they 
were  silent  for  a  time.  Suddenly  she  drew  back  and 
looked  at  him. 

"  You  didn't  seem  glad  to  see  me."  Cold  delibera 
tion  had  replaced  the  tenderness  in  her  voice.  "  I 
don't  believe  you  do  love  me  as  you  did  when  you  left 
Paris.  It's  that  American  you  care  for  now."  She 
rose  and  stood  before  him. 

The  fear  of  her  reawakened  in  Jean  Marie.  He 
wished  he  could  rid  himself  of  her  for  the  present,  so 
that  there  would  be  no  danger  of  a  scandal.  What 
would  she  do  if  she  were  convinced  that  he  was  trying 
to  win  the  heiress  ?  It  would  be  the  end  of  his  golden 
dream  if  the  implacable  Richard  Rolfe  should  hear 
of  his  relations  with  the  cafe  singer. 


20  THE    FLAME 

"  Tell  me,  Jean,"  she  demanded  with  increasing 
ardor,  and  a  frown  was  deepening  on  her  forehead, 
"  have  you  asked  that  girl  to  marry  you  ?  " 

"  No !  There  is  nothing  between  us  but  a  friend 
ship  which  is  advantageous  to  me.  I  met  Miss  Rolfe 
soon  after  I  arrived  here  in  San  Francisco  and  she 
invited  me  to  her  home.  It  is  a  fortunate  acquaint 
ance,  because  she  and  her  brother  can  introduce  me 
to  millionaires,  and  already  I  am  forming  schemes 
that  will  bring  me  money." 

By  the  look  she  flashed  at  him  he  knew  that  she 
discredited  his  words. 

"  Schemes  !  "  she  sniffed  indignantly.  "  With  a 
fifty-million-dollar  heiress  within  reach  there  is  but 
one  scheme  that  you  would  be  forming." 

She  whirled  off,  and,  walking  to  the  other  end  of  the 
room,  stood  before  a  long  mirror  in  which  she  could 
watch  the  Prince,  while  petulantly  arranging  some 
straying  locks  of  hair  and  straightening  the  jet  orna 
ments  dangling  on  her  gown.  Her  pride,  her  vanity, 
rebelled  against  losing  him,  although  it  was  something 
more  than  infatuation  for  him  that  had  brought  her 
to  America.  She  had  been  away  from  Paris  but  two 
weeks,  yet  already  she  was  beginning  to  be  dissatis 
fied  because  she  was  robbed  of  her  many  admirers, 
who  surfeited  her  with  luxury  and  adoration.  Jean 
Marie's  vacillating  love  was  a  small  recompense  for 
the  sacrifice.  Perhaps  he  felt  too  sure  of  her.  She 
would  find  another  lover  and  torment  the  Prince  into 
subjection.  He  once  had  been  her  most  devoted 
adorer;  she  would  make  him  so  again. 

The  slow  fire  kindling  in  her  eyes  was  a  warning  to 


THEFLAME  21 

Jean  Marie.  How  could  he  force  her  to  abandon 
him? 

"  Miss  Rolfe  is  only  a  sweet  child,"  he  said,  slowly, 
"  far  too  simple  and  uninteresting  to  bear  the  title 
of  the  Princess  de  Bourbon.  I  am  sure  that  her 
brother  is  opposed  to  me,  and  he  is  the  trustee  of  her 
estate.  The  girl  is  in  love  with  a  dashing,  handsome 
Italian  who  breathes  romance  and  mystery.  He  is 
wealthy,  and  is  the  type  of  man  who  would  attract  any 
woman,  especially  one  so  young  and  inexperienced  as 
Miss  Rolfe.  There  is  sentiment  even  in  his  name, — 
Mario  Cavarodossi.  He  sings,  and  he  plays  the 
piano,  and  is  exceedingly  attractive  and  popular." 

Camille  brightened  and  gave  a  quick  glance  at  her 
beautiful  reflection  in  the  mirror.  A  dashing  Ital 
ian  !  She  was  partial  to  the  sons  of  Italy,  and  from 
this  one  she  also  could  learn  how  serious  was  the 
friendship  between  Gwendolyn  and  the  Prince.  It 
would  be  a  double  game  and  an  exciting  one.  She 
knew  that  she  was  a  dangerous  foe,  and  already  she 
looked  upon  the  American  girl  as  an  enemy. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  acquainted  with  this  Mario 
Cavarodossi,"  she  said  with  a  thrill  in  her  voice. 

The  Prince  had  been  watching  the  rapid  shades  of 
expression  that  flitted  across  her  face,  and  when  she 
spoke  he  believed  he  understood  her  thoughts,  well 
knowing  her  coquetry.  A  sudden  plan  flashed  into 
his  mind.  He  would  bring  Camille  and  Cavarodossi 
together.  This  would  be  his  means  of  ridding  himself 
of  Camille  for  the  present,  and,  at  the  same  time,  he 
could  ruin  the  Italian's  chance  of  winning  Gwendolyn 
by  having  her  brother  informed  of  Cavarodossi's  ac- 


22  THEFLAME 

quaintance  with  the  singer.  He  clutched  the  arms  of 
his  chair  and  stifled  the  triumphant  exclamation  that 
rose  to  his  lips. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  with  sudden  indifference,  "  Cavaro- 
dossi  and  I  are  acquainted,  but  I  cannot  say  that  we 
are  friends.  He  is  a  charming  fellow  and  I  believe 
him  to  be  a  nobleman  of  importance  traveling  in 
cognito.  One  feels  his  distinction  at  once."  Jean 
Marie  was  lying.  He  thought  the  Italian  was  very 
"  heavy  "  and  uninteresting,  because  there  was  noth 
ing  dainty,  nothing  of  the  exquisite  in  his  nature. 
"  It  is  not  surprising  that  Miss  Rolfe  goes  into  ecsta 
sies  over  him,"  he  went  on  carelessly,  taking  a  ciga 
rette  from  his  gold  case  and  reaching  for  a  match. 
"  She  is  so  romantic  and  easily  dazzled  by  stirring 
tales  of  mystery  and  sword  play,  that  the  stories  of 
ancient  castles,  heroic  cavaliers,  and  thrilling  love  ad 
ventures,  completely  fascinate  her.  It  seems  a  pity 
that  such  a  clever  fellow  should  throw  himself  away 
on  an  inexperienced  child.  He  is  worthy  of  a  bril 
liant  woman." 

Camille  whirled  round.  Her  eyes  were  sparkling, 
her  red  lips  were  parted  in  a  smile,  and  her  cheeks 
were  slightly  flushed.  She  was  radiant  with  victory. 
Jean  Marie  watched  her  with  a  throbbing  heart,  but 
he  masked  his  victory  with  unconcern.  She  slowly 
went  back  to  the  chair  near  him  and  took  a  cigarette 
from  the  case  he  had  laid  on  the  table.  Her  supple 
figure  moved  with  feline  grace  and  he  was  unpleas 
antly  aware  that  she  seemed  more  dangerous  in  San 
Francisco  than  in  Paris.  She  threw  herself  back  in 
the  chair  with  indolent  grace,  her  long  lashes  shading 


THEFLAME  23 

her  eyes,  her  lips  puckered  coquettishly  as  she  blew  a 
thin  cloud  of  smoke  into  the  air.  Suddenly  she 
sprang  up  and  dashed  her  cigarette  into  a  tray. 

"  You  have  lied  to  me,  Jean !  "  she  snapped  at  him. 
"  I  don't  believe  a  word  you  have  said  about  Gwen 
dolyn  Rolfe  being  simple  and  childlike.  You  are  try 
ing  to  win  her  and  you  want  to  deceive  me,  but  I'm 
not  a  fool !  Don't  think  that  I  am  going  to  give  you 
up.  You  are  mine,  because  I've  —  She  flashed 
him  a  significant,  defiant  glance. 

Jean  Marie  caught  a  quick  breath  and  reddened. 
The  muscles  of  his  face  set  hard,  and  he  rose  and 
turned  away  to  the  window. 

A  taunting  little  smile  of  mischievous  amusement 
crept  over  her  lips,  and  she  shrugged  with  a  quick 
flaunt.  Stealing  up  behind  him,  she  pressed  a  light 
kiss  on  his  neck. 

"  Jean !  "  she  said  in  a  caressing,  pouting  tone, 
"  won't  you  introduce  Mario  Cavarodossi  to  me  ?  I 
don't  know  a  soul  in  San  Francisco  but  you,  and  I'm 
afraid  I  may  be  lonesome, —  dear." 

He  did  not  speak,  but  was  breathing  hard. 

"  You  know,"  she  added,  after  a  pause  and  her 
arms  went  slowly  round  him,  "  if  he  sings  well,  he 
could  be  of  assistance  to  me.  He  might  be  able  to 
teach  me  something,  too."  The  words  fell  slowly, 
caressingly  from  her  lips. 

Jean  Marie  jerked  away.  "  Teach  you  some 
thing  !  "  he  echoed  with  an  annoyance  half  feigned. 
"  What  is  there  in  art  or  artifice  that  you  have  not 
learned  already  ?  " 

She  laughed  softly.     "  Are  you  jealous,  Jean?  " 


24  THEFLAME 

"  Yes !  "     He  walked  away. 

Her  eyes  were  lustrous  with  satisfaction. 

"  Really,  now,"  she  purred,  "  I  didn't  think  you 
cared  so  much.  You  gave  me  such  a  chilly  recep 
tion,"  with  a  little  shudder. 

"Where  are  you  living?  "  he  interrupted. 

"  Here  at  the  Fairmont.     I  arrived  this  morning." 

"  You  mustn't  stay  here,"  he  said  with  a  sudden 
sweetness.  "  I  shouldn't  be  able  to  see  you  without 
causing  gossip.  Go  to  some  obscure  hotel  where  I 
am  unknown  and  my  visits  will  not  be  discussed  by 
curious  attendants.  You  had  better  return  to  your 
room  now.  Callers  have  a  disagreeable  way  of  drop 
ping  in  at  untimely  moments."  He  picked  up  her 
mantle  from  the  floor. 

She  pouted.     "  You  are  tired  of  me." 

"  Cruel  enchantress !  "  he  said,  breezily.  "  That 
could  never  be.  Come !  "  coaxingly. 

She  tossed  back  her  head  and  flashed  him  a  saucy 
glance.  "  You  are  horrid  to  me,  Jean  Marie !  " 

She  went  towards  him  and  let  him  wrap  the  gar 
ment  round  her.  He  folded  her  in  his  arms  as  he  did 
so,  and  said  low  in  her  ear :  "  I  am  glad  you  have 
come,  Camille.  I  didn't  know  how  much  I  wanted 
you." 

She  raised  his  hands  clasped  over  her  breast  and 
kissed  them  with  a  quick  fervor,  but  a  mocking,  ex 
ultant  smile  was  in  her  eyes. 

They  went  towards  the  door. 

"  You  have  fine  apartments,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  and  I  must  soon  find  a  way  by  which  I  can 
restore  my  rapidly  ebbing  capital." 


THEFLAME  25 

"  Are  you  in  debt  again  ?  "  It  was  asked  with  a 
quick  flash  of  anxiety. 

"  No,"  he  laughed.     "  It  isn't  that  bad,—  yet." 

"  If  you  need  it,  Jean,  I  can  — " 

"  No,"  he  interrupted.  "  The  way  in  which  I  ob 
tained  the  money  to  come  to  America  must  not  be  re 
peated.  A  last  kiss,  and  then  good-night." 

"  No,  I  won't  kiss  you.  I  don't  love  you  any 
more."  She  quickly  opened  the  door  and  stepped 
out  into  the  corridor. 

"  Oh,  Camille  !  "  he  pleaded. 

She  laughed  lightly.  "  I'll  move  to  the  obscure 
hotel  to-morrow,"  she  said,  "  and  you  may  come  and 
see  me, —  that  is,"  and  her  eyes  twinkled  merrily,  "  if 
you  bring  Mario  Cavarodossi."  She  closed  the  door 
before  he  could  answer. 

Jean  Marie  fretfully  snapped  his  fingers  and  went 
back  and  sank  into  the  chair  he  was  in  when  Camille 
had  burst  in  upon  him.  For  a  while  he  sat  quiet  and 
thoughtful.  There  was  danger  surrounding  Camille, 
but  he  felt  that  he  wrould  win  in  the  end  and  that  his 
triumph  would  come  through  the  ensnaring  of  his 
rival,  Mario  Cavarodossi.  But  how  many  uncom 
fortable  moments  would  Camille  make  for  Jean  Marie? 
The  Prince  frowned  and  drew  his  dressing  gown  about 
him  with  an  impatient  jerk.  He  must  guide  matters 
as  cautiously  and  shrewdly  as  possible.  If  only  Rich 
ard  Rolfe  did  not  exist! 

"  Fran9ois !  "  His  Highness  called  in  a  tart  tone. 
*'  I  am  going  to  bed.  Bring  me  a  bottle  of  absinthe." 


CHAPTER  II 

/GWENDOLYN  came  slowly  down  the  broad 
VJf  stairs  into  the  hall  and  paused  on  the  last  step 
and  listened.  Mario  Cavarodossi  was  in  the  music- 
room  playing  the  piano  and  singing  arias  from  "  La 
Tosca."  His  tenor  voice  was  warm  with  feeling  and 
possessed  a  rare  charm,  not  because  he  was  a  studied 
artist,  but  because  he  was  born  a  singer.  He  had 
that  intuitive  art  common  to  the  Italians.  There 
were  fire  and  soul  and  tears  in  his  voice  and  he  could 
play  on  the  heartstrings  of  every  listener. 

Gwendolyn  stood  very  quietly  and  her  pink  crepe 
gown  fell  softly  about  her  graceful  figure.  She  was 
small  and  slender,  with  a  dainty  ethereal  loveliness 
that  had  captivated  several  artists.  The  light  held 
by  the  bronze  warrior  on  the  newel  shed  its  bright 
rays  on  her  wealth  of  blonde,  naturally  wavy  hair 
coiled  loosely  on  the  top  of  her  head.  She  was 
pretty,  but  her  greatest  charm  was  her  large  eyes  mot 
tled  gray  and  violet.  They  were  eyes  that  looked 
out  into  the  world  with  questioning  simplicity,  inno 
cent,  trusting,  fawnlike  eyes  that  were  appealing  and 
reflected  her  sweet  character.  Long  black  lashes 
veiled  them,  and  they  were  crowned  with  beautiful]^ 
curved  brows.  She  rested  one  hand  on  the  newel  and 
closed  her  eyes  while  listening  to  Mario's  passionate 

music,  and  her  face  pictured  every  emotion  he  ex- 

26 


THEFLAME  27 

pressed  with  his  voice.  When  he  ceased  singing,  but 
went  on  playing,  she  quietly  hurried  into  the  room, 
and  going  up  behind  him,  with  a  quick  impulse  rested 
her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  said,  with  a  little  thrill 
in  her  voice : 

"  How  wonderfully  you  sing !  You  make  me  feel 
as  though  I  were  Floria  Tosca ! " 

Cavarodossi  rose  with  a  start,  and  the  blood 
mounted  under  his  clear,  dark  skin. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  listening,  Signorina !  " 
His  voice  was  melodious. 

"  What  a  gift  it  is  to  be  able  to  sing  as  you  sing !  " 
Gwendolyn  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  up  into  his 
face  with  admiration.  The  soft  light  fell  upon  her 
from  the  piano  lamp  at  her  side  and  the  violet  coloring 
in  her  eyes  deepened. 

Mario  felt  a  sudden  impulse  to  clasp  her  in  his 
arms,  she  was  so  sweet,  unaffected  and  entirely  femi 
nine. 

"  Won't  you  sing  again  for  me?  "  she  asked. 

He  smiled  an  assent,  and  after  she  had  taken  a  chair 
near  the  piano,  sat  again  on  the  stool  and  resumed 
his  singing. 

Gwendolyn  studied  him.  He  was  above  medium 
height,  powerful  and  broad-shouldered,  but  easy  in 
manner  and  endowed  with  the  careless  Italian  grace. 
His  features  were  strong,  clear-cut  and  noble.  She 
was  thinking  of  the  contrast  between  Cavarodossi  and 
Jean  Marie.  The  Italian  was  unassuming;  the 
Frenchman  made  people  remember  his  noble  blood  and 
name,  although  he  was  always  gracious.  What  was 
it  about  the  Prince  that  attracted  her  so  strongly? 


28  THEFLAME 

It  was  the  air  of  romance  surrounding  him.  She 
felt  a  little  ashamed  of  her  infatuation  while  looking 
at  the  strong  man  before  her,  yet  she  knew  that  when 
Jean  Marie  would  come  she  would  feel  the  same  thrill 
and  her  heart  would  flutter. 

"  Mr.  Rolfe  told  me  to-day  that  you  are  to  have  a 
distinguished  guest  here  to-night,"  said  Cavarodossi, 
suddenly  turning  to  her. 

"  Yes.  Janos  Feleki,  the  Hungarian  violinist  who 
is  visiting  San  Francisco,  has  promised  to  come  to 
dinner,  although  I  hardly  expect  him,  he  is  so  erratic. 
I  was  warned  not  to  ask  him  to  bring  his  violin,  be 
cause  if  he  feels  in  the  mood  he  will  bring  it  and  play 
without  an  invitation." 

Mario  laughed.     "  I  am  curious  to  meet  him." 

The  maid  drew  aside  the  portiere  and  Jean  Marie 
entered.  Displeasure  flashed  across  his  face  when  he 
found  Gwendolyn  and  Cavarodossi  alone,  but  he 
quickly  smiled,  exclaiming,  as  he  went  forward: 

"  The  lovely  pink  and  white  lady  is  radiant  to 
night  !  "  He  bowed  low  over  her  hand  and  pressed 
her  fingers. 

Cavarodossi  noticed  with  annoyance  that  a  secret 
sympathy  and  understanding  were  in  the  looks  they 
exchanged.  The  two  men  greeted  each  other  with 
cold  but  extreme  politeness. 

The  other  guests  began  to  arrive.  There  were  to 
be  ten  at  dinner.  Jean  Marie  was  very  gracious  to 
Miss  Beatrice  Morris  when  she  appeared  with  her 
brother,  who  was  a  brilliant  young  lawyer  and  Mr. 
Rolfe's  most  intimate  friend.  Beatrice  and  Gwen 
dolyn  had  been  school  friends  and  the  Prince  felt  that 


THEFLAME  29 

her  favor  was  worth  winning.  Three  other  girls 
presently  arrived  and  hovered  around  Jean  Marie, 
flashing  him  admiring  glances.  He  had  a  compli 
ment  for  every  one  and  played  the  cavalier  to  each  in 
turn. 

An  exclamation  of  pleasure  went  round  when  the 
portiere  was  raised  and  the  great  artist,  Janos  Feleki 
entered,  violin  in  hand.  Jean  Marie  drew  a  sharp 
breath  and  took  a  backward  step. 

Feleki  made  a  striking  picture  as  he  stood  quiet  for 
a  moment  after  the  red  plush  portiere  had  fallen  be 
hind  him.  He  was  of  medium  height,  slender,  with  a 
nervous  agility.  His  hair  was  black,  long  and  fluffy ; 
his  thin  face  was  pale  and  his  features  were  sharp  and 
classical;  his  eyes  were  brown  and  alert  until  music 
softened  them.  His  hands  expressed  his  genius,  being 
slender  and  white,  with  long  fingers,  and  a  nervous, 
sensitive  force  seemed  to  emanate  from  them  at  every 
move. 

"  You  are  most  welcome,"  said  Gwendolyn,  hurry 
ing  towards  him.  "  It  is  kind  of  you  to  bring  your 
violin.  I  dared  not  hope  for  such  a  pleasure." 

"  It  is  an  honor  to  play  for  Mademoiselle,"  he  an 
swered  with  a  quick,  clear  enunciation. 

Gwendolyn  introduced  him  to  her  guests.  A 
startled  look  flashed  into  Feleki's  eyes  and  he  blanched 
when  he  was  presented  to  the  Prince  de  Bourbon,  who 
was  standing  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room.  Jean 
Marie  bowed  low  to  hide  his  face.  They  exchanged 
no  words,  but  Feleki,  as  if  he  never  before  had  heard 
the  name,  pronounced  it  in  a  significant  yet  thought 
ful  tone :  "  The  Prince  de  Bourbon !  " 


30  THEFLAME 

When  the  violinist  was  introduced  to  Cavarodossi, 
he  grasped  the  Italian's  hand  and  said  warmly : 

"  I  hope  we  can  be  friends.     You  are  an  artist." 

"  No,  but  I  love  music,"  Cavarodossi  returned. 

"  You  are  an  artist.  I  can  see  it  in  your  eyes." 
Feleki's  tone  withstood  contradiction. 

Richard  Rolfe  entered.  He  was  tall,  athletic  in 
build,  with  clean-cut  features  and  shrewd,  steel-gray 
eyes  that  were  very  disturbing  to  Jean  Marie  when 
they  rested  upon  him  for  any  length  of  time. 

They  went  in  to  dinner,  the  Prince  escorting  Gwen 
dolyn. 

"  The  ladies  ran  away  and  left  me  when  the  violin 
ist  came,"  he  said  to  her  in  a  low  tone,  "  but  I  wanted 
to  feast  my  eyes  upon  you  alone." 

Gwendolyn  blushed.  "  Your  Highness  is  trying 
to  make  me  vain." 

"  No,  Mademoiselle,  I  only  want  you  to  know  your 
charm." 

At  the  table  Janos  Feleki  sat  at  Gwendolyn's  right 
and  Jean  Marie  at  her  left.  The  Prince  cast  a  fleet 
ing  but  triumphant  glance  at  Cavarodossi,  who  was  in 
the  middle  of  the  table  and  across  from  him.  Rich 
ard  Rolfe  quietly  smiled  as  he  caught  the  glance 
which  Mario  ignored. 

"  I  don't  intend  to  appear  here  in  public  again 
this  season,"  Feleki  was  saying  to  Miss  Morris,  who 
sat  beside  him.  A  nervous  tone  was  in  his  voice  and 
his  hands  were  slightly  trembling.  "  I  am  remain 
ing  here  in  San  Francisco  for  my  summer  vacation. 
I  have  fallen  in  love  with  this  wonderful  place.  You 
should  be  proud  of  your  men  who  have  so  quickly 


THEFLAME  31 

rebuilt  the  city.  They  are  glorious  in  energy  and 
enterprise,  and  their  work  seems  almost  magic.  Did 
you  remain  here  after  the  disaster?  "  he  asked,  turn 
ing  to  Gwendolyn. 

"  No,  we  went  to  New  York  and  I  stayed  there 
over  a  year,  but  my  brother  returned  here  in  three 
months.  He  is  one  of  our  glorious  rebuilders."  Her 
eyes  were  brilliant  with  pride  as  she  cast  a  loving 
glance  at  Richard,  and  he  brightened.  "  I  am  en 
thusiastic  over  New  York,"  she  went  on.  "  Especially 
its  music  and  art.  I  went  to  the  opera  every 
night  during  the  season  and  attended  all  the  concerts 
given  by  great  artists.  Richard  says  that  I  am 
music-mad." 

"  Impossible !  "  exclaimed  Feleki  with  enthusiasm. 
"  Music  is  the  grandest,  noblest  and  most  inspiring 
of  all  the  arts.  You  have  an  interesting  name,"  he 
added,  glancing  at  Mario. 

"  Yes,  and  Puccini  has  made  me  love  it  since  he  has 
immortalized  it  in  music.  It  gives  me  a  thrill  to  hear 
*  La  Tosca  '  and  see  the  tenor,  my  namesake,  Mario 
Cavarodossi,  shot  down  on  the  platform  of  the  Castle 
Sant'  Angelo.  I  know  every  inch  of  Rome,  my  na 
tive  city,  and  that  last  act,  with  the  Vatican  and  St. 
Peter's  in  the  distance,  stirs  my  blood  as  no  other 
opera  can." 

"  You  are  a  splendid  hero,"  said  Mr.  Morris,  "  and 
you  die  a  noble  death, —  a  martyr  for  your  cause  and 
fidelity  to  your  friend." 

"  Then  we  may  call  Floria  Tosca  a  martyr  for 
love,"  said  Jean  Marie,  sipping  his  wine.  "  You 
should  find  such  a  woman."  He  raised  his  eyes  to 


32  THEFLAME 

Cavarodossi,  and  there  was  a  mocking  smile  in 
them. 

"  It  wouldn't  be  difficult,"  Mr.  Rolfe  said  quietly 
and  glanced  from  Cavarodossi  to  Gwendolyn  with 
speculative  shrewdness. 

Jean  Marie  forced  a  lofty  smile  and  sipped  his  wine 
again. 

Feleki's  alert  intuitiveness  discerned  the  rivalry  be 
tween  the  Prince  and  the  Italian,  and  his  sympathy 
went  to  Mario.  He  was  somewhat  socialistic  in  his 
ideas  and  was  not  partial  to  noblemen,  especially  to 
Jean  Marie. 

"  I  love  Puccini's  music,"  Gwendolyn  said  quickly, 
casting  a  nervous  glance  from  her  brother  to  the 
Prince. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Feleki,  understanding,  "  but  when 
you  have  heard  one  of  his  operas,  you  have  heard  all. 
He  is  not  a  great  genius,  but  an  unusually  clever  me 
chanic, —  if  such  a  word  may  be  adapted  to  music." 

"  I  miss  the  opera  here  in  San  Francisco,"  said 
Cavarodossi.  "  In  Rome  I  used  to  go  every  night." 

"How  long  have  you  been  in  America?"  asked 
Feleki. 

"  Two  years,  and  I  have  been  in  this  city  nearly 
all  the  time.  I  came  to  see  the  ruins,  and  stayed,  be 
cause  I  found  that  I  could  be  of  assistance  to  some  of 
my  countrymen." 

Richard  nodded.  "  His  benevolence  and  loyalty 
have  made  him  a  hero  in  the  Italian  colony." 

"  We  suspect  him  of  being  a  great  nobleman  in 
cognito,"  said  Miss  Morris,  smiling. 

"  Come   now,   won't  you   confide   in   us  ?  "     Jean 


THE     FLAME  33 

Marie's  drawling,  playful  tone  had  the  faintest  tinge 
of  sarcasm. 

"  I  would  if  I  had  anything  to  confide,"  returned 
Mario,  good-naturedly. 

"  Perhaps  he  fears  we  may  think  him  a  titled  for 
tune-hunter  in  America,"  said  Feleki,  not  raising  his 
eyes  from  his  plate. 

Jean  Marie  flashed  him  a  glance  that  combined 
fear  and  anger,  but  the  fire  instantly  died,  and  he 
said  with  scornful  levity: 

"  Do  you  accuse  me  of  belonging  to  that  class, 
Monsieur  Feleki?  " 

The  artist's  eyes  were  opened  very  wide  as  he 
raised  them  to  the  Prince. 

"  Monsieur,  how  you  wrong  me !  "  His  tone  was 
shocked  and  aggrieved. 

"  Who,  indeed,  could  accuse  the  Prince  de  Bour 
bon  of  being  a  fortune-hunter?"  Mr.  Rolfe's  voice 
sounded  very  clear  and  crisp  and  his  steel-gray  eyes 
rested  on  Jean  Marie  with  a  calmness  that  made  the 
Prince's  blood  run  cold. 

"  Surely  no  one  would  attempt  it,"  said  Mr.  Mor 
ris.  "  The  air  surrounding  Your  Highness  is 
charged  with  wealth." 

Every  eye  was  turned  to  Jean  Marie.  There  were 
handsome  gems  on  his  shapely  hand  lying  on  the 
table ;  his  cuff  buttons  and  studs  were  diamonds,  and 
his  watchfob  was  his  coronet  in  jewels. 

Jean  Marie  smiled  graciously  upon  Mr.  Morris, 
but  inwardly  he  was  swearing  vengeance  against  Rich 
ard  Rolfe  and  Feleki. 

Gwendolyn  was  uncomfortable  and  did  not  let  her 


34  THEFLAME 

guests  linger  at  the  table  after  the  last  course,  but 
took  them  into  the  spacious  conservatory  adjoining 
the  music-room,  where  coffee  was  served. 

"  Do  you  sing?  "  Feleki  asked  Gwendolyn,  as  he 
stood  beside  her  chair. 

Jean  Marie  had  been  sitting  close  to  her,  but  when 
Feleki  approached,  he  rose  and  went  slowly  towards 
the  fountain  in  the  middle  of  the  conservatory  and 
stood  watching  the  little  goldfish  in  the  water. 

"  I  haven't  much  vocal  talent,"  Gwendolyn  said, 
"  and  I  lose  courage  to  study  when  I  hear  great 
artists." 

"  You  shouldn't.  Your  speaking  voice  is  very 
musical.  Perhaps  you  have  more  talent  than  you  im 
agine.  I  should  like  to  hear  you  sing  *  Caro  Nome  * 
from  '  Rigoletto.' '  Feleki  paused  and  added 
thoughtfully,  after  a  moment's  silence :  "  To  me  that 
is  a  realistic  opera, —  the  story  of  the  Duke  of  Man 
tua  pretending  to  be  a  poor  student  and  bringing 
ruin  to  a  confiding,  innocent  girl.  Such  an  incognito 
is  a  low,  beastly  trick."  A  stinging  hatred  and  con 
tempt  were  in  his  quiet  tone  and  his  glance  fell  care 
lessly  upon  Jean  Marie,  who  had  turned  aside  and 
was  bending  lower  over  the  goldfish.  "  I'll  play  now, 
if  you  wish."  Feleki  tossed  back  his  head  and  ran 
his  fingers  through  his  fluffy  hair. 

All  the  guests  went  into  the  music-room,  with  the 
exception  of  Jean  Marie,  who  said  he  preferred  to 
remain  alone  in  the  conservatory  and  dream  while 
under  the  spell  of  Feleki's  enchanting  music. 

Cavarodossi  offered  to  accompany  Feleki  on  the 
piano,  and  proved  himself  to  be  a  performer  with  a 


THEFLAME  35 

kindred  soul  and  technical  skill.  The  listeners  sat 
with  bated  breath  while  Feleki's  violin  sobbed  and  sang 
and  laughed.  His  body  swayed  in  unison  with  the 
varying  tempi  of  the  Hungarian  music.  His  hands, 
his  face  and  even  his  waving  hair  expressed  the  differ 
ent  shades  of  passion  that  rose  and  fell  with  the  mas 
terful  bow.  His  eyes  grew  tender,  lustrous,  limpid, 
then  the  quivering  lids  drooped  and  the  long  lashes 
veiled  them. 

After  the  last  tone  had  died  away,  it  was  several 
seconds  before  Feleki  opened  his  eyes  and  the  little 
audience  roused  from  the  spell  of  his  music  and  broke 
into  a  noisy  applause.  The  violinist  felt  in  the  mood 
for  playing,  and  did  not  wait  to  be  coaxed. 

Gwendolyn  was  deeply  stirred  by  the  music.  Tears 
welled  in  her  eyes  and  her  throat  was  throbbing. 
She  wished  that  Jean  Marie  were  near  her.  She  felt 
that  for  some  unexplainable  reason  her  brother  and 
Feleki  were  leagued  against  him,  and  that  Jean 
Marie  was  remaining  alone  in  the  conservatory  be 
cause  he  too  felt  it.  Clutching  the  arms  of  her  chair, 
she  held  herself  rigid  in  her  endeavor  to  restrain  the 
tears  that  forced  themselves  into  her  eyes.  Why 
was  Richard  so  unkind? 

When  she  could  no  longer  endure  the  Prince's  ab 
sence,  she  slipped  from  the  room  while  the  violin 
strings  were  trembling  and  singing  under  Feleki's  in 
spired  touch.  She  quietly  entered  the  conservatory 
by  the  hall  door,  and  found  Jean  Marie  sitting  in  a 
corner  from  which  he  could  not  see  into  the  music- 
room.  He  was  leaning  forward  with  his  elbows  rest 
ing  on  his  knees  and  his  hands  hanging  limp.  He 


36  THEFLAME 

held  a  cigarette  tightly  between  his  teeth.  Gwendo 
lyn  was  at  his  side  before  he  heard  her.  Looking  up, 
he  quickly  rose.  She  saw  that  the  debonair  light  was 
gone  from  his  eyes. 

"  Feleki  is  a  wonderful  artist,"  he  said,  softly. 
"  How  could  you  leave  while  he  is  still  playing  ?  Will 
you  sit  here?  " 

She  sank  into  the  chair,  and  sat  for  a  moment 
pulling  nervously  at  her  handkerchief.  "  Why  do 
you  stay  here  alone?  "  she  asked  with  a  sudden  im 
pulse. 

He  dropped  on  the  ottoman  at  her  feet.  Seeing 
her  emotion,  he  summoned  his  courage  to  play  upon 
her  sympathy.  He  must  win  her  quickly  or  never. 

"  I  have  felt  depressed  all  day,"  he  slowly  said. 

"  I  trust  nothing  has  happened." 

"  No,  but  I  want  to  be  sure  that  nothing  will."  He 
clasped  her  fingers,  as  they  rested  on  the  arm  of  the 
chair,  and  quickly  pressed  a  light  kiss  upon  them. 
"  Forgive  me,  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  drawing  back 
as  if  regretting  his  boldness.  "  That  music  has  in 
toxicated  me.  Listen  to  the  frenzy  of  its  appeal !  " 

They  sat  quiet  for  a  time,  but  above  the  wailing 
tones  of  the  violin,  Gwendolyn  heard  the  throbbing 
of  her  heart. 

"  Is  he  not  wonderful?  "  she  asked,  and  when  Jean 
Marie  did  not  raise  his  head,  added,  softly,  "  Your 
Highness ! " 

Jean  Marie  glanced  up  quickly,  and  dropping  on 
one  knee,  seized  her  hand,  and  said  with  an  impas 
sioned  thrill  in  his  voice: 

"  Don't  say  *  Your  Highness  ' !     I  want  you  to 


THEFLAME  37 

forget  that  I  am  a  Prince.  Think  of  me  only  as  the 
humblest  of  men  and  call  me,  as  my  mother  did,  sim 
ply  Jean  Marie !  "  He  buried  his  face  in  the  folds 
of  her  gown. 

Gwendolyn  clasped  her  hands  tightly  and  gazed 
down  with  startled  eyes  at  his  wavy  black  hair.  When 
she  glanced  up,  the  music  had  ceased,  and  Mr.  Rolfe 
stood  in  the  doorway  with  his  steel-gray  eyes  fas 
tened  upon  her. 


CHAPTER  III 

and  Jean  Marie  had  not  spoken  for 
several  minutes,  and  she  was  watching  him  with 
puzzled,  questioning  eyes.  They  were  at  dinner  in 
one  of  the  popular  restaurants  in  the  Italian  Colony, 
"  II  Fior  d'ltalia."  The  Prince  dared  not  be  seen 
with  Camille  in  public  where  he  might  be  known,  and 
even  in  this  restaurant,  patronized  almost  entirely 
by  Italians,  he  took  the  precaution  to  dine  in  one  of 
the  private  boxes  that  lined  both  sides  of  a  narrow 
hallway  just  back  of  the  public  dining-room.  There 
had  been  but  few  people  in  the  public  room  when  he 
and  Camille  entered  at  half  after  five,  but  now  it  was 
nearly  eight  o'clock,  and  the  room  was  crowded. 

Jean  Marie  was  eating  very  slowly,  and  his  thoughts 
seemed  to  have  flown  far  from  Camille.  Presently 
she  laid  her  knife  and  fork  on  her  plate,  and  settling 
back  in  her  chair,  folded  her  arms  and  studied  him 
with  a  frowning  countenance  that  was  reddening  with 
anger. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Jean?"  she  sud 
denly  demanded  in  a  cold,  impatient  tone.  "  You 
haven't  spoken  for  at  least  ten  minutes,  and  you 
don't  even  appear  to  be  aware  of  my  presence." 

He  started  and  glanced  up  quickly. 

"  I  am  most  happily  aware  of  your  presence,  my 
love,"  he  returned  with  a  suave  smile.  "  I  am  dumb 
with  joy." 

3d 


THEFLAME  39 

She  looked  him  full  in  the  eyes.  "  Jean,  you  have 
acted  strangely  since  you  went  to  that  American 
girl's  home  for  dinner  five  nights  ago.  What  hap 
pened  there?  " 

"  Nothing.  It  was  a  quiet,  enjoyable  evening. 
The  Rolfe  home  is  not  a  place  in  which  to  find  ani 
mated  entertainment.  You  must  remember  that 
Mademoiselle  was  educated  in  a  convent." 

Camille  did  not  return  his  smile.  "  You  have  been 
preoccupied  ever  since  that  night,  and  the  day  fol 
lowing  you  did  not  call  to  see  me.  Did  the  girl 
reject  you?  Perhaps  she  thinks  that  the  title  of  the 
Prince  de  Bourbon  is  not  great  enough  for  her 
fifty  million  dollars !  "  Sarcasm  was  in  her  voice  and 
eyes. 

"  I  have  told  you,  Camille,  that  I  have  no  inten 
tion  of  marrying  the  girl, —  unless  you  drive  me  to 
it." 

She  laughed  with  a  taunting  scorn.  "  Unless  / 
drive  you  to  it !  America  is  developing  your  wit." 

"  Drive  me  to  it  with  your  coldness  and  cruelty," 
he  added,  ignoring  her  laugh. 

"  '  Coldness  ! '  "  she  sharply  echoed.  "  Look  here, 
Jean,  this  monotonous  life  is  unbearable.  I  won't  en 
dure  it  much  longer.  You  don't  come  to  see  me  if  it 
doesn't  suit  your  pleasure,  and  if  I  don't  have  some 
excitement,  I'll  die  of  ennui,  or  —  make  some  excite 
ment  for  myself."  She  smiled  significantly. 

Jean  Marie  fastened  an  uncomfortable  gaze  on  her. 
"  What  will  you  do  ? "  he  carelessly  asked,  after 
pushing  back  his  plate  and  emptying  his  glass  of 
wine. 


40  THEFLAME 

A  triumphant  quiver  ran  through  her  serpentine 
body,  her  red,  sensuous  lips  parted  in  a  slow  smile, 
and  her  eyelids  drooped  with  languid  scorn. 

"  I'll  go  and  interview  Miss  Rolfe.  I'll  ask  her 
why  she  isn't  willing  that  the  charming  Prince  de 
Bourbon  and  I  should  enjoy  her  fifty  million  dollars. 
I'll  make  her  understand  how  essential  her  American 
gold  is  to  us." 

Jean  Marie  pressed  his  lips  tightly  together  and 
his  hands  clenched  under  the  table  with  a  jerk. 

"  You  don't  look  happy,  Jean,"  she  purred,  caress 
ingly,  "  and  you  are  going  to  see  her  to-night !  Will 
Mario  Cavarodossi  also  be  there?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  savagely  growled.  "  Didn't  I  tell  you 
that  she  is  in  love  with  him  ?  " 

"  Poor  Jean  Marie !  "  she  sighed.  "  What  event 
did  you  tell  me  they  are  celebrating  to-night  ?  " 

"  The  third  anniversary  of  the  earthquake." 

"  What  a  jarring  affair  to  make  merry  over !  You 
look  quite  upset  already,  Jean." 

The  Prince  was  grateful  for  the  intrusion  of  the 
curly-haired  Italian  waiter,  whose  eyes  brightened 
with  admiration  every  time  they  fell  upon  Camille. 
Jean  Marie  paid  for  the  dinner  and  with  a  wave  of 
the  hand  dismissed  the  waiter.  When  they  were 
alone,  he  rose  and  began  to  brush  a  few  crumbs  from 
his  coat. 

"  There  was  more  admiration  in  that  waiter's  eyes 
when  he  looked  at  me  than  I  see  in  yours,"  pouted 
Camille,  with  a  sudden  reproachful  tenderness. 

Jean  Marie's  face  brightened  and  bending  down, 
he  patted  her  cheeks  and  kissed  her  hair. 


THEFLAME  41 

"  No  one  loves  and  admires  you  as  I  do,  Camille. 
You  know  it." 

"  Then  we  mustn't  quarrel,  Jean,  and  you  must 
care  for  me  as  you  used  to." 

"  I  haven't  changed,  but  you  are  suspicious  and 
doubting." 

She  laughed  with  a  careless  sweetness. 

Their  box  was  the  first  from  the  main  dining-room, 
and  as  Jean  Marie  drew  aside  the  portiere  and  they 
stepped  out  into  the  hallway,  his  eyes  fell  upon 
Cavarodossi  and  Feleki,  who  were  making  ready  to 
leave  the  restaurant.  Cavarodossi's  face  was  turned 
towards  them,  but  Feleki  was  speaking  to  the  waiter. 
Jean  Marie  sprang  back  and  forced  Camille  into  their 
box  so  quickly  that  he  thought  Cavarodossi  did  not 
see  them. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  surprised. 

"  A  man  I  don't  care  to  meet." 

"  Do  you  owe  him  money?  "  she  laughed. 

Jean  Marie  smiled,  knowing  that  she  did  not  sus 
pect. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.     "  Money  and  a  grudge." 

A  few  minutes  later  they  left  the  restaurant. 
Cavarodossi  and  Feleki  had  disappeared.  The  Prince 
and  Camille  entered  the  carriage  waiting  for  them 
and  Jean  Marie  ordered  the  driver  to  take  them  to 
Camille's  hotel. 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  home  yet,"  she  said,  as  they 
drove  off.  "  I  shan't  have  any  company  all  the 
evening.  I'll  drive  with  you  to  the  Rolfe  home, — 
no  one  will  know  that  I  am  in  the  carriage, —  and 
then  I'll  go  to  my  hotel." 


42  THEFLAME 

Jean  Marie  did  not  answer. 

"  I  don't  want  to  leave  you,"  she  added,  stroking 
his  hand  and  laying  her  head  on  his  shoulder. 

He  felt  apprehensive,  but  could  give  no  reasonable 
excuse  for  refusing  to  let  her  go  with  him.  Pressing 
her  fingers,  he  slipped  his  arm  around  her,  but  it  was 
some  minutes  before  he  gave  the  driver  Gwendolyn's 
address. 

As  they  neared  their  destination,  the  coachman 
drew  in  his  horses.  A  motor-car,  coming  from  the 
opposite  direction,  stopped  before  the  Rolfe  mansion, 
and  while  the  carriage  was  approaching,  two  men 
stepped  from  the  machine;  as  one  went  forward  to 
speak  to  the  chauffeur,  the  light  fell  upon  his  face. 

"  Look !  "  gasped  Camille,  seizing  the  Prince's  arm 
with  one  hand  and  pointing  at  the  man  with  the  other. 
"  Look !  "  she  repeated,  and  her  fingers  desperately 
clutched  his  arm. 

The  man  was  Janos  Feleki. 

"  Hush !  "  whispered  Jean  Marie,  forcing  her  back 
into  the  corner  of  the  carriage. 

Feleki  and  Cavarodossi  went  up  to  the  house. 

Jean  Marie  quickly  ordered  the  coachman  to  drive 
them  round  several  blocks  and  then  return. 

The  Prince  did  not  enter  Gwendolyn's  home  for 
nearly  an  hour,  and  when  he  was  ushered  into  the 
music-room,  he  abruptly  paused  on  the  threshold. 
The  room  was  lighted  only  by  the  large  piano  lamp, 
and  the  guests  were  sitting  round  the  piano,  at  the 
side  of  which  stood  Janos  Feleki,  under  the  light,  his 
violin  singing  a  strange,  weird  melody.  The  tones 


THE     FLAME  43 

rang  out  diabolical,  mocking,  with  sudden  bursts  of 
intense  passion  and  tender  appeal.  It  was  all  mys 
terious,  haunting,  and  Jean  Marie  felt  an  uncom 
fortable  sensation  stealing  over  him.  None  of  the 
listeners  moved  until  the  last  tone  had  died  away,  and 
no  one  was  conscious  of  Jean  Marie's  presence. 
Cavarodossi  had  accompanied  Feleki's  first  piece, 
but  this  last  one  was  for  the  violin  alone,  and 
Cavarodossi  sat  on  the  piano  stool,  his  elbows  on  the 
keyboard  and  his  head  resting  on  his  hands.  The 
tension  was  not  broken  until  Feleki  laid  his  violin  on 
the  piano,  and  even  then  no  one  applauded,  but  all 
drew  a  long,  quivering  breath.  Feleki  was  very  pale, 
the  muscles  of  his  face  slightly  twitched  and  his  hands 
were  trembling. 

Jean  Marie  felt  a  strange  nervousness  in  Feleki's 
presence.  There  was  something  weird  about  the  vio 
linist,  something  not  of  this  earth,  and  every  one  in 
the  little  audience  felt  it.  It  was  the  far-seeing,  in 
tensely  sensitive  genius,  incomprehensible  to  them  all. 

Jean  Marie  went  forward,  and  the  guests  rose  to 
greet  him. 

"  Your  playing  was  most  impressive,  Monsieur 
Feleki,"  he  said,  after  he  had  bowed  deeply  over 
Gwendolyn's  hand. 

Jean  Marie  found  the  same  guests  he  had  met  at  the 
dinner  five  days  before. 

"  I  didn't  know  that  music  could  stir  me  thus,"  said 
Richard,  giving  Feleki  a  searching  glance. 

"  You  must  do  a  great  deal  of  practicing,"  said 
Miss  Morris. 

"  Three  or  four  hours  every  day,"  answered  Feleki, 


44  THEFLAME 

"  but  it  is  not  the  practice  that  you,  perhaps,  under 
stand.  My  violin  and  I  are  conversing.  We  tell 
each  other  stories  of  things  and  places  that  exist  only 
in  the  imagination.  Our  world  begins  where  the  ma 
terial  world  ends." 

The  violinist  sank  into  a  chair  near  the  piano,  and 
Jean  Marie  sat  by  Gwendolyn.  She  looked  very  an 
gelic  to  Cavarodossi,  with  her  soft,  clinging  white 
gown  and  her  wealth  of  blonde  curls. 

"  How  old  were  you  when  you  began  to  study 
music?  "  asked  Mr.  Morris. 

"  Nine.  My  parents  were  very  poor  and  the  violin 
was  given  to  me  by  the  man  who  owned  the  estate 
on  which  my  father  worked." 

"Did  you  complete  your  studies  in  Hungary?" 
Cavarodossi  inquired,  leaning  forward  and  eyeing 
Feleki  with  interest. 

"  No.  This  same  gentleman  furnished  me  with 
money  to  go  to  Paris,  but  it  was  a  very  limited  bank 
account."  Feleki  laughed  and  rested  his  head  against 
the  back  of  his  chair.  A  reminiscent  look  came  into 
his  eyes,  followed  by  a  flash  of  pain. 

"  Did  you  live  in  the  Latin  Quarter  of  Paris  with 
the  students  and  artists  ?  "  asked  Gwendolyn,  her  face 
brightening.  "  Tell  us  something  about  your  life." 

"Yes,  do!  "they  all  urged. 

Jean  Marie  alone  was  silent.  He  shrank  back  in 
his  chair,  and  his  limbs  stiffened  as  his  muscles  set 
hard. 

Feleki  did  not  glance  at  him,  but  smiled  at  their 
eagerness. 

"  The  history  of  my  life  in  the  Latin  Quarter  and 


THE     FLAME  45 

of  the  interesting  students  I  have  met  would  fill  a  vol 
ume.  It  is  the  most  unique,  the  wildest,  gayest  life 
imaginable." 

"  Is  it  true  that  they  have  cafes  where  you  eat  on 
coffins  ?  "  Gwendolyn  asked  with  a  little  shudder. 

Feleki  laughed.  "  A  cafe,  Mademoiselle.  That  is 
not  the  common  custom!  But  for  sweet  little  ladies 
like  you  there  is  the  cabaret  of  *  Heaven,'  although  I 
doubt  if  the  *  angels  *  would  be  any  more  to  your 
liking  than  the  chamber  of  death  and  the  carabet  of 
*  Hell,'  with  Satan  and  his  imps  for  waiters.  The 
c  Cafe  du  Conservatoire,'  famous  for  the  poets  and 
singers  who  visit  it,  was  always  interesting  to  me.  It 
is  built  like  a  church  with  the  Gothic  type  of  architec 
ture.  But  the  place  I  loved  best  of  all  was  '  Cafe 
Procope,'  founded  over  two  hundred  years  ago,  and 
famous  for  the  patronage  of  Voltaire,  Rousseau, 
Robespierre,  Bonaparte,  Madame  Roland,  and  many 
others  famous  in  history.  In  the  rear  of  the  Cafe 
is  a  little  salon  in  which  are  a  table  and  chair  that 
Voltaire  used  to  occupy.  That  Cafe  makes  one  live 
in  a  past  that  is  dead.  But  this  is  not  in  the  Latin 
Quarter;  it  is  on  Montmartre,  where  you  find  the 
bizarre  Bohemian  life.  The  Latin  Quarter  is  what  is 
dear  to  me,  because  it  is  not  so  brazen  and  outlandish. 
The  students  are  interested  in  one  another,  and  the 
goodfellowship  is  a  joy  to  see." 

"  Are  they  really  such  bad  people  as  they  are  pic 
tured?  "  Gwendolyn's  eyes  were  wide  with  question 
ing  innocence,  and  as  Feleki  looked  into  them,  his 
blood  burned  with  indignation  at  Jean  Marie's  wooing 
of  such  a  pure  young  creature.  The  color  rose  in 


46  THEFLAME 

his  pale  face  as  he  turned  his  scathing  eyes  on  the 
Prince.  Jean  Marie  met  the  gaze  with  cold  defiance, 
but  when  Feleki  looked  away,  he  pushed  his  chair 
back  a  little  farther,  so  that  his  face  was  half  shaded 
from  the  light. 

"  The  students  are  not  a  virtuous  lot,"  the  violinist 
said,  slowly,  glancing  back  to  Gwendolyn,  "  yet  there 
is  an  honor  amongst  them  that  is  sometimes  defiled 
by  one  who  comes  from  the  outer  world." 

Jean  Marie  nervously  bit  his  lip,  but  he  sat  very 
still,  with  his  gaze  riveted  on  the  artist. 

"  I  don't  suppose  their  life  is  free  from  care,"  said 
Mr.  Rolfe.  "  I  should  think  that  it  would  be  a  hard, 
struggling  existence  with  a  very  pitiful  side  to  it." 

"  It  has  a  pitiful  side,  Mr.  Rolfe, —  a  side  full  of 
grim  tragedies  that  are  sometimes  unknown." 
Feleki's  hands  moved  nervously  over  the  arms  of  his 
chair,  then  gripped  them  with  a  sudden  force. 

"  Can't  you  tell  us  a  story  of  this  inner  life?  " 
asked  Gwendolyn.  "  It  would  be  interesting  to  hear 
something  that  you  yourself  have  known." 

Her  voice  was  soft  and  musical  and  her  wondering, 
trusting  gaze  made  Feleki's  blood  again  leap  through 
his  veins.  She  was  too  lovely  a  flower  to  be  crushed. 
Anger  and  resentment  flamed  within  him.  She  had 
asked  for  a  story  that  he  had  known.  He  would  give 
it  to  her. 

Jean  Marie  sharply  watched  Feleki  and  held  his 
breath. 

"  Yes,  Mademoiselle,  I  can  tell  you  something  that 
came  into  my  own  life."  Feleki's  voice  quivered  with 
suppressed  excitement.  He  paused,  but  did  not  take 


THEFLAME  47 

his  eyes  from  Gwendolyn.  "  I  was  twenty  when  I 
went  to  Paris  and  began  my  life  in  the  Latin  Quar 
ter.  There  lived  in  the  house  next  to  the  one  in  which 
I  lodged,  a  woman  with  two  daughters.  The  eldest, 
who  was  eighteen,  was  the  pet  of  all  the  students. 
Her  name  was  Diane  Godin.  The  little  family  was 
in  the  depths  of  poverty.  Diane  was  a  wonderful 
girl,  working  to  support  her  mother  and  her  four 
teen-year-old  sister.  She  had  an  indomitable  will; 
for  her,  nothing  was  impossible.  She  was  radiantly 
beautiful,  vivacious,  restless,  fond  of  the  gay  things 
of  life,  yet  withal,  she  was  gentle  and  sweet  and  cher 
ished  noble  ideals.  She  was  gifted  with  a  dramatic 
voice  and  a  perfect  ear  for  music.  Being  eager  for 
applause,  praise,  adoration,  she  loved  to  sing,  be 
cause  she  knew  that  her  voice  was  a  power,  ?,nd  it  was 
power  that  she  wanted,  and  with  it  wealth  to  satisfy 
her  desire  for  jewels  and  handsome  clothes.  Her 
desire  to  hold  sway  over  the  hearts  of  men  was 
greater  than  her  love  for  them.  She  was  a  good  girl, 
innocent  of  the  world's  badness.  We  became  dear 
friends  and  I  loved  her  for  her  wild,  untrained  na 
ture.  With  the  proper  guidance  she  would  have 
made  a  remarkable  woman.  She  used  to  tell  me  her 
inmost  thoughts,  and  there  was  something  Napoleonic 
in  her  ambitions.  She  was  fearlessly  treading  the 
path  of  guiltless  pleasure,  little  knowing  there  was  a 
viper  concealed  in  the  grass." 

Feleki  paused  and  for  a  moment  pressed  one  hand 
over  his  eyes.  The  long  white  fingers  were  trem 
bling. 

Jean  Marie  was  breathing  hard  and  not  a  muscle 


48  THEFLAME 

in  his  body  had  relaxed.  "  The  viper  plunged  its 
poisonous  fangs  into  her  a  year  after  I  first  met 
her,"  Feleki  went  on.  "  A  man  from  the  outer  world 
of  Paris  came  and  lived  in  the  house  with  her.  He 
was  refined,  educated,  with  an  air  of  distinction. 
All  of  us  students  believed  him  to  be  a  nobleman  or 
a  rich  man's  son,  incognito.  His  eyes  soon  fell  upon 
Diane  and  the  mystery  surrounding  him,  the  aristo 
cratic  birth  that  he  betrayed,  fascinated  her,  he  was 
so  unlike  the  others,  although  he  was  living  their 
gay  life  without  restraint.  The  world  that  she  be 
lieved  he  had  come  from  was  the  goal  she  was  striving 
for,  but  for  a  time  he  would  acknowledge  nothing 
and  insisted  that  he  was  only  a  poor  student,  strug 
gling  to  earn  a  meager  living  with  his  voice  and  his 
drawing.  At  last,  he  confided  to  her  that  he  was  of 
aristocratic  birth  and  told  her  highly-colored  stories 
of  the  life  that  trouble  had  forced  him  to  abandon, 
but  some  day  —  and,  he  believed,  before  long  —  he 
could  return  to  his  own  sphere.  He  made  ardent 
love  to  her  and  fired  her  ambition  with  tales  of  the 
luxurious  life  that  would  be  hers  if  she  would  leave 
the  Latin.  Quarter  and  go  with  him  when  the  time 
came.  He  told  her  of  the  magnificent  cafes  where 
she  could  sing  and  become  the  idol  of  the  Parisian 
aristocrats,  of  the  jewels  and  money  that  would  be 
flung  at  her  feet,  and  he  could  place  her  in  this 
gilded  position.  All  these  stories  inflamed  her  am 
bitions,  and  she  began  to  love  him,  not  so  much  for 
himself,  I  know,  as  for  the  life  he  could  give  her. 
Oh,  it  was  a  dastardly  trick  that  he  served  her  and 
her  mother  and  sister !  " 


THE     FLAME  49 

Feleki's  voice  quivered.  He  dropped  his  head  for 
ward  on  his  clasped  hands  and  tears  trembled  on  his 
long  lashes. 

Jean  Marie  was  ashen.  A  cold  perspiration 
dampened  his  forehead,  but  he  did  not  move,  nor  take 
his  eyes  from  the  violinist. 

Feleki  raised  his  head  and  went  on: 

"  The  man  remained  in  the  Latin  Quarter  a  year, 
and  in  that  time  he  had  made  Diane  a  slave  to  his 
romancing.  She  was  ready  to  follow  him  wherever 
he  might  take  her.  He  induced  her  to  run  away  with 
him  without  even  saying  good-by  to  her  mother,  be 
cause  he  feared  that  tears  and  entreaties  would  rob 
him  of  the  girl,  and  he  loved  her  in  his  dissolute 
way.  How  I  reasoned  and  pleaded  with  her!  But 
to  no  avail.  She  went,  leaving  her  sixteen-year-old 
sister,  to  support  herself  and  her  mother.  He  had 
dazzled  Diane,  hypnotized  her,  until  she  could  see 
only  the  life  he  was  taking  her  to.  Mother,  sister, 
friends  were  forgotten  under  the  spell  he  had  cast 
over  her.  She  went  in  a  delirium ;  he  took  her  in 
cold  blood." 

"  The  brute!  "  broke  in  Mr.  Rolfe. 

"  How  could  a  man  be  so  despicable !  "  exclaimed 
Gwendolyn,  her  voice  vibrant  with  indignation. 

A  quick  gratitude  shone  in  Feleki's  face  as  he 
turned  from  Gwendolyn  to  Jean  Marie.  The  Prince 
writhed  under  the  glance  and  his  eyes  were  burning 
with  rage. 

"  I  didn't  see  her  again  for  two  years,"  Feleki 
continued,  with  his  unwavering  gaze  resting  on  Jean 
Marie,  "  and  during  that  time  good  fortune  had 


50  THEFLAME 

come  to  me.  I  was  discovered  by  an  influential  man 
and  brought  to  the  attention  of  a  manager,  who  ar 
ranged  a  concert  tour  for  me.  One  night,  after  I 
had  given  a  concert  in  Paris,  I  strolled  into  a  cafe 
patronized  by  the  aristocratic  Bohemians,  and  found 
a  young  woman  gorgeously  gowned  and  jeweled, 
who,  with  her  singing,  was  captivating  her  audience 
and  rousing  their  enthusiasm  to  a  degree  of  noisy 
demonstration.  The  woman  was  Diane.  Emotion 
suffocated  me  and  I  left  the  place  before  she  had 
finished  her  song.  I  waited  in  the  street  until  she  left 
the  place,  radiant,  triumphant.  As  she  was  about 
to  step  into  her  carriage,  I  spoke  to  her.  The  glory 
faded  from  her  eyes  and  she  gasped,  c  Janos ! '  in 
a  tone  I'll  never  forget.  She  begged  me  not  to  see 
her  again,  not  to  visit  the  cafe,  not  even  to  inquire 
'  the  name  under  which  she  was  singing.  She  said 
that  the  past  was  dead  and  gone.  Shame  was  in 
her  eyes  and  I  knew  then  that  the  good  in  her  had 
not  perished.  I  did  not  see  her  again,  nor  did  I 
learn  the  true  name  of  the  scoundrel  who  had  led  her 
on  the  path  of  ruin.  That  was  the  end." 

Feleki  said  the  last  words  in  a  low  tone.  Rising 
quickly,  he  caught  up  his  violin  and  began  to  walk 
the  floor,  playing  a  wild,  passionate  melody. 

No  one  moved.  His  story,  his  emotion,  his  ex 
pressive  vibrant  voice,  and  now  his  music,  held  them 
fascinated.  Suddenly  he  halted  before  Gwendolyn. 

"  I  have  done  as  you  asked,  Mademoiselle,  and 
told  you  a  story  that  I,  myself,  have  known.  It 
proves  to  you  that  Diane  had  nothing  to  fear  from 
the  students.  It  was  the  man  from  the  outer  world." 


THEFLAME  51 

"  He  was  horrible,  horrible ! "  repeated  Gwen 
dolyn,  giving  a  little  shudder  of  repulsion.  "  I'll 
never  forget  this  girl  whom  you  have  described  so 
vividly,  nor  the  hateful  man  whom  you  have  right 
fully  called  a  viper  concealed  in  the  grass.  Your 
story  has  been  like  a  warning,  and  I  thank  you  for 
it." 

Jean  Marie  flashed  her  a  quick,  startled  glance. 
She  was  looking  before  her  with  quiet,  thoughtful 
eyes. 


CHAPTER  IV 

r  II  HE  Prince  was  the  first  guest  to  leave  Gwen- 
A  dolyn's  home.  He  complained  of  being  ill,  and 
his  looks  did  not  belie  his  words.  Feleki's  story 
had  unnerved  him.  The  violinist's  coming  had 
plunged  him  into  a  whirlpool,  and  a  desperate  strug 
gle  was  necessary  to  keep  from  sinking.  His  woo 
ing  of  Gwendolyn  should  have  been  more  ardent  and 
decisive.  He  had  wasted  opportunities,  but  now  it 
would  be  safer  not  to  press  his  suit  until  the  vio 
linist  had  left  the  city. 

Jean  Marie  threw  himself  back  into  the  corner  of 
his  carriage  that  was  taking  him  to  the  Fairmont, 
and  began  to  bite  nervously  at  the  end  of  an  un-( 
lighted  cigarette.  His  position  had  been  made 
doubly  perilous  by  Camille's  discovery  that  Janos 
was  in  San  Francisco.  But  did  she  know  that  he 
was  using  another  name  on  the  concert  stage?  If 
she  did,  she  could  easily  locate  him,  because  he  was 
living  in  the  most  prominent  and  central  hotel  in 
the  city.  Should  she  in  a  moment  of  madness  send 
for  him,  what  would  be  the  result? 

With  sudden  anger,  Jean  Marie  flung  his  ciga 
rette  out  the  carriage  window.  He  had  seen  things 
this  night  at  the  Rolfe  home  that  made  him  less  con 
fident  of  holding  sway  over  Gwendolyn.  Richard's 
attitude  towards  him  had  seemed  to  lack  the  ac- 


THEFLAME  53 

customed  cordiality,  and  Gwendolyn  had  been  some 
what  agitated  by  Jean  Marie's  presence,  blushed 
when  his  eyes  rested  upon  her,  and  avoided  his  gaze. 
Richard  had  been  attentive  to  Cavarodossi,  and  the 
Prince  had  caught  several  glances  of  sympathetic 
understanding  between  them.  Jean  Marie  felt  him 
self  becoming  an  outsider,  and  his  anger  was  hot 
against  Cavarodossi.  He  would  immediately  bring 
the  Italian  under  Camille's  destructive  spell.  He 
had  no  doubt  of  her  power,  and  he  knew  that  she 
would  exert  herself  to  captivate  Mario,  yet  the  Prince 
himself  could  not  introduce  Cavarodossi  to  her,  not 
only  because  that  would  rouse  his  suspicion  of  Jean 
Marie,  but  because  the  Prince  dared  not  betray  any 
thing  more  than  a  casual  acquaintance  with  Ca- 
mille. 

By  the  time  Jean  Marie  had  reached  his  apart 
ments  in  the  Fairmont,  he  had  decided  to  solicit  the 
help  of  Monsieur  Dubois,  an  amiable  little  French 
man,  who  was  fond  of  Jean  Marie  and  was  greatly 
impressed  by  his  title.  Monsieur  Dubois  was  a  mem 
ber  of  several  aristocratic  clubs ;  it  was  in  one  of 
these  that  he  had  made  Cavarodossi's  acquaintance. 
The  Frenchman  had  many  friends,  but  was  not  of 
sufficient  importance  to  have  enemies.  His  simple- 
mindedness  would  make  him  an  excellent  tool. 

Jean  Marie  telephoned  to  the  club  where  Dubois 
usually  spent  his  evenings,  and  finding  him,  asked 
him  to  stop  in  on  his  way  home  and  have  a  glass  of 
wine.  Dubois  was  charmed  by  the  Prince's  atten 
tion. 

Jean  Marie  told  Fra^ois  to  order  several  bottles 


54  THE    FLAME 

of  rare  wine  and  a  box  of  expensive  cigars,  and  more 
deeply  to  impress  Dubois  with  his  wealth,  the  Prince 
arrayed  himself  in  his  most  elaborate  dressing  gown 
of  rich  brown  silk  embroidered  with  gold  and  fas 
tened  round  his  waist  with  a  gold  cord  and  tassel. 
Until  his  guest  arrived,  Jean  Marie  paced  the  floor, 
with  his  hands  clasped  tightly  behind  his  back  and 
his  lips  pressed  firmly  together.  Defiance,  despera 
tion,  revenge,  glowed  in  his  eyes,  but  his  face  quickly 
cleared  as  he  went  forward  to  meet  his  caller. 

Monsieur  Dubois  was  a  small,  middle-aged  man 
and  somewhat  pudgy,  with  a  skin  like  yellow  wax. 
His  eyes  were  round  and  pale  blue  and  his  scantily 
dispersed  hair  was  carefully  brushed  and  appeared 
to  be  oiled.  His  mustache  was  small  and  had  been 
trained  to  lie  flat  to  his  face  and  was  turned  up  at 
the  ends.  There  was  deference  in  the  bow  he  gave 
the  Prince. 

"  You  are  a  stranger,"  Jean  Marie  said,  after 
they  were  seated.  "  We  haven't  met  for  three  or 
four  weeks." 

"  I  haven't  called,  because  I  did  not  wish  to  in 
trude  myself  upon  Your  Highness."  The  little 
Frenchman's  voice  was  smooth  and  oily,  and  Jean 
Marie  realized  more  than  ever  before  that  his  caller's 
components  were  in  harmony. 

"  You  are  always  welcome,"  the  Prince  graciously 
assured  him. 

Monsieur  Dubois  brightened,  and  settling  back 
in  his  chair,  clasped  his  pudgy  hands  over  his  rather 
expansive  girth,  and  his  unfailing  smile  became  real 
and  benign. 


THEFLAME  55 

"  How  have  you  been  amusing  yourself  of  late?  " 
the  Prince  asked,  offering  him  a  cigar. 

"  My  life  is  unchanging.  It  is  the  clubs  or  the 
theaters  every  evening  and  occasionally  a  reception 
or  a  ball,  both  of  which  I  heartily  detest  and  would 
never  attend  were  it  not  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
the  charming  ladies." 

Jean  Marie  shook  his  finger  at  him.  "  The 
ladies ! "  he  echoed,  with  a  sly,  significant  smile. 
"  You  always  have  been  irresistible  to  the  fair 
sex." 

Monsieur  Dubois  sat  erect  and  preened  himself, 
but  he  raised  a  modest,  protesting  hand. 

"Your  Highness  is  jesting!  It  is  your  glance 
that  proves  fatal  to  the  stoutest  feminine  heart." 

Jean  Marie  sank  back  in  his  chair  and  sighed. 
"  I  only  wish  it  were  true !  "  he  murmured,  thinking 
of  Gwendolyn's  changed  manner. 

"  Your  Highness  has  only  to  recall  your  many 
conquests  to  be  satisfied  that  it  is  true." 

Jean  Marie  gave  him  a  sharp  glance.  ;4  Who  has 
told  you  of  my  conquests?" 

"  No  one,  but  there  must  have  been  many." 

Dubois's  innocent,  flattering  smile  reassured  the 
Prince. 

"  I  sometimes  wish  I  were  home  in  Paris,"  the  little 
man  went  on.  "  I  miss  the  gay  life.  There  is  no 
variety  here." 

Jean  Marie  shook  his  head  and  sat  for  a  moment 
watching  the  smoke  that  rose  in  little  spirals  from 
his  cigarette.  Presently  he  glanced  up  and  said, 
quietly : 


56  THEFLAME 

"  A  Parisian  novelty  has  recently  arrived  in  San 
Francisco." 

"Really!  What  is  it?"  Dubois  leaned  forward 
and  eyed  the  Prince  with  interest. 

"  A  woman, —  a  ravishingly  beautiful  cafe  singer." 

"  What  is  she  doing  here?  I  haven't  heard  of 
her." 

"  She  is  searching  for  some  of  the  much-talked-of 
American  gold.  I  knew  her  slightly  in  Paris,  and 
chance  threw  me  in  her  path  the  other  day." 

If  Monsieur  Dubois  surmised  that  Jean  Marie 
was  concealing  anything,  his  manner  did  not  betray 
it. 

"  You  are  fortunate  to  have  found  new  diver 
sion,"  he  said,  knocking  his  cigar  ashes  into  a  tray. 

"  Yes,  and  I  suggest  that  we  share  it,  and  besides 
have  some  amusement  with  a  third  person." 

"  I  am  at  your  service."  Dubois  was  extremely 
flattered  by  the  Prince's  gracious  familiarity. 

"  Several  nights  ago  I  was  at  the  Rolfe  home  and 
we  were  speaking  of  the  Bohemian  life  in  Paris,  and 
Cavarodossi  said  that  while  he  admires  the  French 
women,  he  does  not  believe  them  to  be  the  sirens  they 
are  acclaimed,  and  insisted  that  no  woman  from 
Bohemian  Paris  could  fascinate  him.  We  had  quite 
an  amusing  and  animated  discussion.  Now,  I  want 
him  to  be  introduced  to  this  cafe  singer,  so  that  I 
can  prove  to  him  that  I  am  right  and  he  is  wrong. 
That  our  women  are  irresistible  is  a  point  on  which 
I  am,  perhaps,  ridiculously  persistent." 

"  Patriotism,"  Dubois  said  with  a  quiet  smile. 
"  If  you  will  introduce  me  to  the  lady,  I  will  present 


THEFLAME  57 

Cavarodossi  and  then  he  will  not  be  aware  of  the  little 
trap  set  for  him." 

Jean  Marie  nodded.  "  You  are  a  truly  good  fel 
low,  Dubois.  We'll  have  great  sport.  It  is  quite 
evident  that  Cavarodossi  has  not  seen  the  world  as 
we  have  seen  it."  The  Prince  smiled  significantly 
and  flashed  a  knowing  glance  at  the  little  Frenchman 
that  was  most  complimentary  to  his  attractiveness, 
and  he  sat  very  erect,  flustered  with  pride. 

"  I  believe  Your  Highness  and  I  have  seen  some 
thing  of  life,"  he  said,  his  voice  vibrant  with  pom 
posity.  "  No  doubt  Cavarodossi  has  much  to  learn. 
How  can  we  arrange  a  meeting?  " 

"  To-morrow  evening  we'll  dine  with  Mademoiselle 
Dubray,  and  a  night  or  two  later  you  can  call  on 
her  with  Cavarodossi.  But  mind  you  don't  absorb 
her  attention  so  that  she  will  not  heed  the  handsome 
Italian !  You  are  such  a  rogue !  " 

Dubois  fidgeted  on  his  chair  with  delight.  A  faint 
color  rose  under  his  waxy  skin,  and  his  pale  blue  eyes 
grew  very  glossy  and  round.  By  the  time  he  was 
ready  to  leave,  he  had  decided  that  Jean  Marie  was 
the  most  charming  man  with  whom  he  was  acquainted, 
and  he  was  a  willing  tool,  because  he  felt  the  honor 
of  possessing  the  friendship  of  the  distinguished 
Prince  de  Bourbon. 

Two  nights  later  Jean  Marie  sat  in  Camille's  par 
lor  awaiting  the  arrival  of  Dubois  and  Cavarodossi. 

"  Where  did  you  meet  that  slippery  eel?  "  Camille 
suddenly  asked,  resting  amused  yet  scornful  eyes  on 
Jean  Marie. 


58  THEFLAME 

"  Monsieur  Dubois  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  positively  oozes  oil.  I've  never  en 
countered  such  a  creature." 

"  He  doesn't  exactly  resemble  an  eel,"  returned 
Jean  Marie.  "  I  think  in  width  he  is  more  like  the 
trigger  fish.  But  don't  despise  him.  He  has  a  snug 
little  bank  account  and  I  could  see  last  night  at  dinner 
that  he  is  going  to  adore  you." 

"  Pardieu !  "  she  exclaimed,  throwing  out  her  arms 
with  disgust.  "  Could  anything  be  more  abomina 
ble!  I  warn  you,  Jean,  if  he  makes  love  to  me,  I'll 
have  him  thrown  into  the  street." 

"  Camille,  my  dear,  remember  that  he  is  going  to 
bring  Cavarodossi.  And  you  have  been,  unusually 
keen  on  this  subject."  Jean  Marie  spoke  in  a  sar 
castic,  yet  jealous  tone. 

"  I  believe  you  are  the  cause  of  his  bringing  Cav 
arodossi  here." 

The  Prince  did  not  glance  at  her,  but  he  felt  the 
glitter  of  the  black  diamond  eyes. 

"  You  know  that  Dubois  himself  proposed  this  call 
to-night,  and  you  know,  also,  that  this  meeting  with 
Cavarodossi  is  not  to  my  liking."  Jean  Marie's 
tone  was  curt,  and  he  rose  and  began  to  walk  the 
floor. 

For  a  time,  Camille  watched  him  furtively,  but  as 
he  passed  her  again,  she  caught  his  coat  and  held  him 
fast. 

"  Kiss  me,  Jean !  Don't  be  silly !  "  She  puckered 
her  lips  and  raised  her  head. 

He  looked  down  into  her  eyes  and  they  drew  him 


THEFLAME  59 

to  her.  Dropping  on  his  knees,  he  folded  her  in  his 
arms. 

"  You  can  always  make  a  fool  of  me ! " 

"  I  love  you !  "  she  whispered  in  his  ear  with  an 
ardent  thrill  in  her  voice.  "  There  is  no  one  so 
sweet  as  you !  "  She  stroked  his  hair  and  he  rested 
his  head  against  her  shoulder.  Presently  she  said 
very  calmly,  after  glancing  at  the  clock :  "  You  had 
better  not  stay  on  your  knees  any  longer,  Jean. 
You'll  lose  the  crease  in  your  trousers,  and  Cavaro- 
dossi  might  come." 

He  rose,  impatiently.  "  How  can  you  turn  so 
suddenly  from  fire  to  ice.  Isn't  there  any  true  love  in 
your  heart  ?  " 

She  closed  her  eyes,  and,  for  a  moment,  her  face 
was  grave. 

"  You  haven't  told  me  yet  about  your  meeting 
with  Janos,"  she  slowly  said.  "  What  did  he  do  and 
say?" 

Jean  Marie's  blood  beat  hard  at  his  temples,  and 
his  voice  was  strained  and  hoarse,  as  he  asked : 

"  Do  you  love  him,  Camille  ?  " 

"  He  loved  me  once,  before  —  She  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands. 

Jean  Marie  blanched  and  his  eyes  blazed  danger 
ously  as  he  glared  down  upon  her.  It  was  some  time 
before  he  said  with  an  effort: 

"  You  are  growing  sentimental." 

With  a  quick  laugh,  she  glanced  up.  The  look  in 
his  face  startled  her. 

"  What  has  Janos  done  to  you  ?  "  she  asked. 


60  THEFLAME 

He  whirled  off .  "  Nothing !  "  he  harshly  retorted, 
"  and  there  is  nothing  he  can  do." 

"  Are  you  keeping  anything  from  me?  " 

"  No.     Janos  and  I  met  as  strangers." 

A  knock  fell  upon  the  door.  Camille's  maid  came 
from  the  bedroom  and  answered  it.  Cavarodossi  and 
Dubois  entered,  but  Mario  abruptly  paused  on  the 
threshold  and  looked  round  him.  He  was  aware 
that  he  had  stepped  into  a  sphere  very  different  from 
his  own.  The  air  was  warm  and  heavy  with  the 
perfume  of  flowers  and  stale  cigarette  smoke.  The 
room  was  furnished  gaudily  in  red  and  white,  and 
was  decidedly  suggestive  of  the  stage  life.  He  felt 
as  though  he  had  entered  a  ballerina's  dressing-room, 
although  he  never  had  been  in  one.  There  was  no 
precision,  no  regularity.  The  furniture  looked  as 
though  it  had  been  carelessly  tossed  into  place.  The 
atmosphere  was  saturated  with  abandonment,  but 
foremost  in  the  almost  barbaric  brilliancy  and  beauty 
was  the  woman  whose  surroundings  typified  her  char 
acter. 

Camille  was  gowned  in  scarlet  chiffon  that  clung 
tightly  to  her  supple  figure.  The  bodice  was  cut 
extremely  low  and  was  sleeveless.  A  band  of  bril 
liants  encircled  her  hair,  which  was  coiled  high  on 
her  head. 

Cavarodossi  cast  a  questioning  glance  at  the 
Prince,  who  appeared  unobserving. 

Camille's  alert  intuitiveness  told  her  that  her  life 
was  strange  to  Cavarodossi,  and  she  greeted  him 
with  gracious  dignity.  She  knew  he  was  beyond  her 
reach,  but  the  satisfaction  of  a  difficult  conquest 


THEFLAME  61 

tempted  her  to  draw  him  as  near  to  her  as  she 
could. 

Jean  Marie  did  not  have  Camille's  fine  understand 
ing,  and  he  wondered  with  amusement  how  long  the 
singer  would  be  breaking  down  the  barrier  that  sep 
arated  her  from  the  Italian. 

"  I  am  adding  another  cavalier  to  Mademoiselle's 
train,"  said  Dubois,  after  he  had  imprinted  a  some 
what  noisy  kiss  on  Camille's  hand.  "  A  few  nights 
ago  I  presented  the  Prince  de  Bourbon,  and  you  see, 
he  is  here  again !  "  he  added,  turning  to  Cavarodossi. 
"  Beware !  You  know  how  it  is  with  the  moth  and 
the  flame!  Mademoiselle's  charms  cannot  be  with 
stood." 

"  I'll  not  be  so  unwise  as  to  attempt  resistance," 
Cavarodossi  returned  with  a  courtly  bow. 

Camille  motioned  for  him  to  sit  beside  her  on  the 
divan.  Dubois  sat  nearby  and  Jean  Marie  stood 
leaning  against  the  mantel,  slyly  watching  Camille 
and  Cavarodossi.  He  was  a  little  amazed  and  dis 
appointed  at  Mario's  meeting  with  Camille.  He  had 
believed  that  the  Italian  would  be  deeply  stirred  by 
her  vivacious  beauty  and  daring  costume,  but  he  had 
shown  nothing  more  than  subdued  surprise. 

"  Monsieur  Dubois  tells  me  that  you  are  a  singer 
from  the  cafes  of  Paris,"  Mario  said  thoughtfully 
studying  her. 

"  Yes."  She  slowly  waved  her  red  feather  fan, 
and,  raising  her  head,  drooped  her  eyelids  to  look  at 
him. 

"  Mademoiselle  has  no  rival  in  her  field."  Du- 
bois's  colorless  lips  curved  a  suave,  flattering  smile, 


62  THEFLAME 

while  his  round,  pale  eyes  beamed  coquettishly  upon 
Camille. 

Cavarodossi  was  amused.  "  I  hope  you  will  sing 
for  us  later,"  he  said,  and  cast  a  glance  at  Jean 
Marie,  wondering  why  he  was  so  quiet. 

The  Prince  caught  the  glance  and  quickly  spoke. 

"  You  have  some  new  paintings,  Mademoiselle. 
What  do  you  think  of  this  one,  Dubois?  He  is  an 
excellent  critic,"  he  added,  turning  to  Camille. 

She  flashed  the  little  Frenchman  an  admiring 
glance. 

"  The  Prince  exaggerates."  He  pompously 
cleared  his  throat,  and,  rising,  went  and  stood  be 
side  Jean  Marie,  who  was  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
room,  manifesting  an  absorbing  interest  in  the  paint 
ings.  He  and  Dubois  began  discussing  the  works 
of  art,  apparently  forgetful  of  all  else. 

"Do  you  sing?  "  Camille  asked  Cavarodossi,  rest 
ing  upon  him  a  gaze  that  was  suddenly  languorous 
and  intense. 

"  Yes,  a  little." 

She  smiled,  and  her  eyes  slowly  brightened  with 
admiration.  "  I  knew  it,"  she  said,  softly.  "  I  felt 
the  kindred  soul  when  we  met.  Perhaps  we  can  sing 
together  sometimes  here  in  my  rooms."  She  leaned 
closer  to  him,  but  Cavarodossi  was  not  easily  intoxi 
cated  by  her  perfumed  hair  and  languishing  smiles. 

"  It  would  be  a  great  pleasure  as  well  as  a  rare 
privilege,"  he  said,  and  began  to  study  her  with  in 
creasing  interest.  He  could  see  the  fire  lurking  be 
hind  her  eyes,  the  danger  of  her  sensuous  lips,  the 
vanity  vibrating  through  her  at  every  breath,  and  the 


THEFLAME  63 

sureness  of  power  in  her  every  move.  Feleki's  story 
came  again  to  his  mind,  and  he  believed  that  Diane 
was  such  a  glowing,  dominant  woman.  He  won 
dered  how  the  singer  would  impress  the  violinist.  He 
could  bring  him  to  her  rooms  some  night  and  see. 

"  Do  you  know  Monsieur  Feleki,  the  violinist  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  He  gave  three  concerts  here  about  a 
month  ago." 

"  No,  but  I  have  heard  of  him.  He  played  several 
times  in  Paris  one  season,  but  I  didn't  see  him." 
Camille  was  not  interested.  "  It  will  be  splendid  for 
us  to  sing  duets  together.  Is  your  voice  tenor  or 
baritone?  " 

"  Tenor." 

"  How  fortunate !  Mine  is  soprano.  We'll  be 
good  friends."  She  lightly  pressed  his  hand.  "  We 
can  have  some  enjoyable  evenings,  especially  if  you 
know  any  musicians." 

"  Yes,  I  know  some  good  artists." 

"  Then  our  success  is  assured."  She  gave  him  a 
quick  glance  and  lowered  her  voice.  "  I  have  been 
told  that  there  is  a  clever  violinist  visiting  here  by 
the  name  of  Zrinyi.  Do  you  know  him?  " 

"Zrinyi?"  Cavarodossi  thoughtfully  repeated. 
"  No,  I've  never  heard  of  him." 

Camille's  gaze  sharpened  and  she  looked  search- 
ingly  into  his  face,  but  was  disappointed.  Her  eyes 
turned  slowly,  wonderingly,  and  rested  on  the  Prince, 
who  was  still  discussing  art  with  Dubois. 


CHAPTER  V 

JEAN  MARIE  invited  Cavarodossi,  Dubois  and 
Camille  to  dine  with  him  at  the  Fairmont  the  night 
after  their  meeting  in  Camille's  hotel.  The  Prince 
was  not  satisfied  with  the  impression  that  the  singer 
had  made  on  Cavarodossi.  He  had  not  been  stirred 
by  her  beauty,  her  vivacity,  nor  her  languishing 
glances,  only  her  passionate,  dramatic  voice  had  af 
fected  him  when  she  had  sung  a  chanson  that  had 
given  her  fame  in  the  cafes,  and  later  an  operatic 
aria  rendered  with  an  accuracy  and  brilliancy  that 
had  revealed  the  true  artist.  Jean  Marie  wondered 
if  Cavarodossi  was  susceptible  to  the  charm  of  music 
only.  Yet  there  had  been  moments  in  which  he  had 
seen  something  stronger  than  admiration  in  Cavaro- 
dossi's  eyes  when  he  had  looked  at  Gwendolyn.  Was 
it  possible  that  a  child-woman  could  fascinate  the 
Italian  and  that  a  radiant,  handsome  creature  like 
Camille  could  not?  Jean  Marie  arrived  at  the  con 
clusion  that  Cavarodossi  was  either  a  fool,  a  prig, 
or  an  exceedingly  clever  actor,  but  he  believed  that 
Camille  before  long  would  be  able  to  ascertain  which 
of  the  three  he  really  was.  He  thought  that  the 
prig  would  be  more  to  Richard  Rolfe's  liking,  so 
he  determined  to  kill  this  virtue  in  Mario.  He  never 
had  been  able  to  distinguish  the  difference  between 
morality  and  priggishness. 

64 


THEFLAME  65 

The  Prince  had  ordered  an  elaborate  dinner  and 
had  had  his  rooms  decorated  with  red  roses.  He 
was  very  well  pleased  with  everything  as  he  stood 
in  his  reception-room,  looking  round  with  a  critical 
eye.  Certainly  Cavarodossi  could  not  believe  him 
a  titled  fortune-hunter  in  America.  As  Mr.  Morris 
had  said,  the  atmosphere  surrounding  the  Prince  was 
charged  with  wealth,  but  Jean  Marie  felt  most  un 
comfortable  when  he  thought  how  rapidly  his  capital 
was  vanishing.  He  must  again  use  all  of  his  arts 
on  Gwendolyn  without  too  boldly  declaring  his  love. 
The  scourge  that  Feleki  held  over  him  was  more  to 
be  feared  than  Cavarodossi  being  his  rival. 

The  telephone  bell  rang  and  Fra^ois  answered 
it.  A  gentleman  wished  to  know  if  the  Prince  de 
Bourbon  would  be  in  his  apartments  this  evening. 

"  Who  is  he?  "  His  Highness  asked  with  a  sudden 
frown. 

"  Mr.  Walsh,"  Fra^ois  said,  after  speaking  again 
to  the  man. 

"  The  Devil !  "  Jean  Marie  angrily  snapped  his 
fingers.  "  Tell  him  to  come  to-morrow."  Gloom 
and  uneasiness  wilted  the  debonair  light  in  his  eyes. 
"  What  did  he  say?  "  he  asked  Fra^ois,  as  the  latter 
hung  up  the  receiver. 

"  He  didn't  tell  me  whether  he  would  come  to 
morrow.  The  line  was  either  disconnected  by  cen 
tral  or  by  the  gentleman  himself."  The  valet  saw 
that  the  Prince  was  perturbed  and  he  went  into  the 
"  study,"  where  the  dinner  table  was  set. 

"  Fran9ois  !  "  Jean  Marie  sharply  called,  and  the 
servant  reappeared.  "  This  room  would  be  very 


66  T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E 

ordinary  without  these  paintings,  wouldn't  it?  "  He 
swept  the  walls  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

Fran9ois  gravely  looked  round.  One  painting 
was  a  romantic,  sylvan  landscape,  another  was  a 
beautiful  Grecian  dancing  girl,  and  two  others 
were  small  paintings  of  picturesque  France. 

"  The  loss  of  them  certainly  would  rob  the  room 
of  the  greater  part  of  its  elegance,"  the  valet  slowly 
answered. 

Jean  Marie  nodded  and  Fra^ois  went  back  into 
the  "  study." 

Going  into  his  bedroom,  the  Prince  drank  a  glass 
of  absinthe  to  quell  the  riot  of  his  nerves.  He  had 
felt  apprehensive  for  several  days  and  now  he  be 
lieved  that  it  had  not  been  without  cause.  Mr. 
Walsh  was  the  last  man  he  cared  to  see,  especially 
at  this  very  critical  time  when  his  winning  of  Gwen 
dolyn  seemed  somewhat  uncertain. 

Cavarodossi  was  the  first  to  arrive,  and  Jean  Marie 
cordially  greeted  him.  He  had  asked  Dubois  to  be 
Camille's  escort,  because  he  had  surmised  that  if 
that  honor  was  conferred  upon  the  Italian,  he  would 
gracefully  decline  the  invitation  to  dinner. 

"  This  is  the  first  time  you  have  called  on  me," 
Jean  Marie  said,  as  Fran£ois  took  Cavarodossi's  hat 
and  overcoat. 

Mario  smiled.  "  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  this  is 
the  first  invitation  I  have  had  to  call."  An  ambig 
uous  look  was  in  his  eyes  as  they  rested  quietly  on 
Jean  Marie.  It  was  curiosity  that  had  brought 
him  now, 


T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E  67 

"  No !  "  the  Prince  quickly  interrupted  with  as 
sumed  surprise.  "  That  cannot  be !  " 

''  Yes,  it  is.  I  always  have  imagined  that  you 
have  not  a  very  friendly  feeling  for  me,  and  I  often 
have  wondered  why." 

Jean  Marie  was  annoyed  at  the  Italian's  frank 
ness  and  thought  him  decidedly  disagreeable,  but  he 
said,  affably: 

"  You  unfortunately  have  misunderstood  me,  and 
in  the  future  we  must  be  more  intimate.  I  hold  you 
in  the  highest  esteem." 

"  Thank  you." 

Jean  Marie  noticed  that  Cavarodossi  did  not  re 
turn  the  compliment. 

Francois  answered  a  knock  on  the  door,  and  Ca- 
mille  and  Dubois  entered. 

"  I  arrive  with  Madame  —  my  wife !  "  Dubois  jubi 
lantly  exclaimed,  pointing  to  Camille  with  a  flour 
ishing  wave  of  the  hand  and  bowing  deeply.  His 
cheeks  were  very  rosy  and  his  eyes  shone  with  pride. 

"  He  is  a  terrible  man,"  laughed  Camille,  going 
toward  Cavarodossi,  "  and  he  flirts  with  me  most 
disgracefully." 

"  You  are  radiant  and  beautiful,  Mademoiselle," 
said  Jean  Marie,  giving  Dubois  a  sly  nudge.  "  You 
seem  happy  in  each  other's  company." 

Dubois  drew  his  coat  together  with  a  self-satisfied 
jerk  and  beamed  upon  Camille,  who  was  shaking 
hands  with  Cavarodossi. 

"  Every  one  we  pas-sed  in  the  corridors  looked  at 
Mademoiselle  with  admiration  and  at  me  with  envy," 


68  THEFLAME 

the  little  Frenchman  said,  giving  his  mustache  a 
twist  so  that  the  ends  stood  up  very  straight. 
"  Mademoiselle  will  make  me  the  lion  of  the  hour." 

"  Don't  listen  to  him,"  laughed  Camilla.  "  He  is 
an  inveterate  flatterer."  She  looked  up  into  Cavaro- 
dossi's  eyes,  and  smiled,  as  she  turned  for  him  to 
assist  her  with  her  pale  blue  Italian  military  cape. 
"  You  see,"  she  said,  softly,  her  voice  full  of  mean 
ing,  "  Italy  has  enveloped  the  whole  of  me.  Even 
this  gown  I  am  wearing  is  made  of  Italian  silk." 

Cavarodossi  glanced  at  her  close-fitting  blue  dress 
and  said,  courteously,  "  Italy  should  be  proud  of  her 
adorer." 

Camille's  eyelids  drooped  a  little  as  she  glanced 
at  Mario  and  smiled.  She  had  cast  several  quick 
looks  at  Jean  Marie  and  understood  that  something 
had  annoyed  him  before  her  coming.  The  Prince 
was  laughing  and  jesting  with  Dubois,  but  Camille 
knew  his  countenance  as  well  as  she  knew  his  life. 

Fran9ois  announced  dinner.  Before  they  took 
their  seats  round  the  table,  Camille  went  to  the  farther 
end  of  the  room  and  examined  a  landscape  sketch. 

"  What  place  is  this  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  to  Jean 
Marie. 

He  went  towards  her,  and  Dubois,  believing  that 
she  wished  to  speak  with  the  Prince  alone,  began  to 
converse  very  jovially  with  Cavarodossi. 

"  That  trigger  fish  has  some  intelligence,"  Camille 
said  in  an  undertone  to  Jean  Marie.  "What  has 
annoyed  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing."     He  did  not  look  into  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  there  is  something.     Tell  me,  Jean." 


THEFLAME  69 

He  hesitated,  then  said  with  assumed  carelessness 
that  did  not  deceive  Camille :  "  A  man  was  coming 
here  to-night  to  demand  payment  for  my  paintings 
which  amounts  to  almost  two  thousand  dollars,  but 
I  have  put  him  off  until  to-morrow, —  that  is,  I  think 
I  have,  if  he  doesn't  burst  in  upon  us.  Americans 
are  persistent  and  boisterous  where  money  is  con 
cerned.  They  are  never  willing  to  await  a  debtor's 
pleasure." 

At  the  table,  decorated  with  red  roses  and  smilax, 
Camille  sat  between  Cavarodossi  and  Dubois. 

"  Do  you  intend  to  sing  in  any  of  the  cafes  here?  " 
Mario  asked  her. 

4  Yes,  if  I  can  find  one  that  will  pay  me  well,  but 
so  far,  I  have  found  nothing  alluring  in  the  prices 
they  offer.  The  cafes  here  in  San  Francisco  are  not 
as  profitable  to  a  singer  as  they  are  in  Paris.  I  am 
told  that  the  patrons  here  rarely  or  never  send  an 
artist  money  with  a  request  that  she  render  the  song 
they  desire.  One  must  depend  entirely  upon  the 
salary  paid  by  the  management.  In  Paris  money  and 
even  jewels  were  sent  to  me  with  requests  for  songs. 
The  people  in  San  Francisco  are  either  not  devotees 
of  art,  or  they  are  not  reckless  Bohemians  like  the 
Parisians." 

"  The  San  Franciscans  are  very  liberal  with 
money,"  said  Cavarodossi,  "  but  their  customs  are 
different.  They  are  appreciative,  but  reserved,  and 
they  have  but  little  of  the  impulsive  enthusiasm  that 
characterizes  us  of  the  Latin  blood.  And  they  are 
devotees  of  art,  I  believe,  because  in  Italy  the  two 
cities  in  the  United  States  best  known  to  the  opera 


70  THEFLAME 

singers  are  New  York  and  San  Francisco.  All  of 
the  singers  who  return  home  after  a  season  here  are 
enthusiastic  over  the  reception  they  received  in  this 
far-away  city." 

"  You  revive  my  hope,"  said  Camille.  "  I  haven't 
been  here  long  enough  to  understand  the  people. 
Perhaps  I'll  find  more  approval  and  appreciation 
than  I  believed." 

"  There  is  no  doubt  of  it,"  Mario  returned.  "  The 
Italians  love  this  place  next  to  their  own  Italy.  You 
see,  I  am  content,  after  leaving  the  beauties  and 
grandeur  of  ancient  Rome,  to  live  in  this  city  that  is 
being  rebuilt." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  something  more  than  the  energetic 
city  that  attracts  you,"  Camille  remarked,  with  a 
sly,  suggestive  glance. 

Mario  reddened  and  became  occupied  with  the 
chicken  Fra^ois  had  served  him. 

"  You  have  struck  a  responsive  chord,"  Dubois 
said,  casting  a  furtive,  amused  look  at  Camille.  "  I 
have  been  expecting  an  interesting  announcement  for 
some  time." 

"  May  we  congratulate  you  ?  "  asked  Jean  Marie, 
forcing  a  smile. 

Cavarodossi  shot  him  a  glance  and  his  eyes  kin 
dled. 

"  No,"  he  quietly  returned.  "  I  don't  know  of 
any  lady  who  has  honored  me  with  her  love." 

"  There  is  a  shade  of  sadness  in  your  voice." 
Camille's  tone  was  sympathetic,  but  a  quick  glance 
of  taunting  sarcasm  sharpened  her  eyes.  "  You 
speak  as  though  you  were  as  ill-favored  as  Cyrano 


THEFLAME  71 

de  Bergerac,  who  could  express  his  passion  for 
Roxane  only  by  writing  love  letters  to  her  for  another 
and  a  fairer  man." 

"  You  have  misunderstood  me,  Mademoiselle." 
Cavarodossi  raised  his  head  and  looked  Camille  full 
in  the  eyes.  "  I  do  not  boast  of  good  looks,  but  I 
do  say  that  if  a  woman  cares  for  me,  I  want  it  to  be 
because  she  is  intelligent  enough  to  love  me  for  what 
ever  mental  faculties  I  may  possess,  not  because  she 
is  attracted  by  physical  form." 

Camille's  expressive  lips  curved  in  an  arch  smile. 

"  Are  you  an  idealist  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No.  I  am  a  soul-worshiper,  and  that  has  noth 
ing  to  do  with  physical  perfection.  But  I  am  not 
blind  to  beauty." 

His  tone  sounded  to  Camille  like  a  warning  that 
her  beauty  could  not  intoxicate  him.  Her  eyes 
rested  quietly  upon  Mario,  but  the  warning  fired  her 
determination  to  enslave  him. 

"  I  think  we  should  try  to  find  an  agreeable  as 
well  as  profitable  engagement  for  Mademoiselle,"  said 
Jean  Marie,  not  liking  the  turn  that  the  conversation 
had  taken. 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  possible  for  Mademoiselle  to  make 
a  business  of  singing  in  private  homes  at  receptions 
and  evening  entertainments?"  suggested  Dubois. 
"  It  would  be  a  novelty  that  would  become  popular, 
I  am  sure." 

Camille  brightened  and  a  cunning  little  smile 
gleamed  in  her  eyes.  She  looked  at  Jean  Marie  with 
amused  triumph,  but  when  she  turned  to  Dubois,  her 
eyes  were  mild. 


72  THEFLAME 

"  That  is  a  good  idea,"  she  said,  speculatively. 
"  I  believe  there  would  be  money  in  it.  If  I  could 
sing  for  the  first  time  in  a  home  that  has  social 
prestige,  I  am  certain  that  my  future  would  be  as 
sured." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  agreed  Dubois,  beginning  to  feel 
the  importance  of  his  social  position.  "  I  promise 
that  something  will  be  arranged." 

Camille  looked  at  the  little  Frenchman  and  asked 
very  calmly :  "  Isn't  there  a  wealthy  family  here 
named  Rolfe?  " 

"  Yes,"  Dubois  answered,  sitting  erect  and  feeling 
his  importance.  "  I  am  a  friend  of  Mr.  Richard 
Rolfe's.  I'll  speak  to  him  about  you.  His  High 
ness  and  Signor  Cavarodossi  also  can  say  a  word  in 
your  behalf." 

Jean  Marie  sat  rigid  and  coldly  smiled,  but  his 
eyes  were  burning. 

Cavarodossi  glanced  from  the  Prince  to  Camille 
and  wondered  what  the  secret  was  between  them.  He 
had  seen  them  together  in  "II  Fior  d'ltalia "  and 
was  convinced  by  the  familiar  looks  they  were  con 
stantly  exchanging  that  their  acquaintance  was  of  no 
recent  date. 

"  My  services  are  at  Mademoiselle's  disposal," 
Mario  politely  said. 

After  dinner  the  guests  sat  in  lounging  chairs  in 
the  "  study,"  smoking. 

Eran9ois  entered. 

"  There  is  a  gentleman  at  the  door  who  wishes  to 
speak  with  Your  Highness." 

Jean  Marie  paled,  but  carelessly  asked  who  the  man 


THE     FLAME  73 

was.  The  valet  said  that  the  caller  did  not  give  his 
name. 

The  Prince  glanced  into  the  reception-room  and 
saw  Mr.  Walsh,  who  had  entered  after  Fra^ois  had 
left  the  door. 

"  If  you  will  pardon  me,  I'll  return  in  a  moment," 
the  Prince  said  to  his  guests. 

Camille  alone  understood  that  something  was 
wrong.  She  could  see  into  the  reception-room  and 
recognized  Mr.  Walsh. 

Jean  Marie  went  out  and  closed  the  door  behind 
him.  Fra^ois  disappeared  into  the  bedroom. 

"  Good  evening,"  said  Mr.  Walsh,  coming  forward 
with  a  gracious  bow. 

"  Good  evening."  Jean  Marie  sharply  studied  his 
caller. 

Mr.  Walsh  was  slender,  almost  emaciated,  with 
slightly  drooping  shoulders.  His  face  was  peaked 
and  weasel-like,  but  the  small  gray  eyes  that  looked 
out  from  under  the  shaggy  brows  were  as  sharp  and 
alert  as  a  hawk's.  He  was  carefully  dressed  in  a 
frock  suit. 

"  I  trust  I  have  not  disturbed  you,"  he  said. 

"  I  have  company  at  dinner.  My  valet  asked  you 
over  the  telephone  kindly  to  defer  your  visit  until  to 
morrow."  Jean  Marie  spoke  none  too  graciously. 
A  creditor  was  the  most  provoking  element  with  which 
he  could  come  in  contact. 

"  I  am  sorry.     The  line  was  disconnected." 

Jean  Marie  was  on  the  verge  of  speaking  his  mind, 
but  restrained  himself. 

"  I  have  come  to  ask  if  Your  Highness  will  kindly 


74  THEFLAME 

settle  the  bill  that  our  firm  has  standing  against  you 
for  the  paintings  which  you  have  here."  Mr.  Walsh 
pointed  to  the  four  pictures. 

"  I  regret  that  I  cannot  pay  at  present,  and  be 
lieved  you  would  understand  when  I  did  not  answer 
the  bills  that  you  have  repeatedly  sent  me."  Jean 
Marie  felt  the  insult  of  an  American  tradesman  de 
manding  money  from  a  French  nobleman.  How  little 
Americans  knew  of  etiquette ! 

"  Can  you  favor  us  with  a  partial  payment  ?  " 
Mr.  Walsh's  eyes  were  growing  sharp. 

"  No,  not  at  present." 

"  Your  Highness  will  kindly  remember  that  this 
debt  was  contracted  nearly  seven  months  ago.  I 
think  that  we  have  been  extremely  patient,  and 
we  regret  that  even  now  we  are  obliged  to  harass 
you." 

"  I  appreciate  your  lenity,"  returned  Jean  Marie 
with  a  tinge  of  sarcasm,  "  but  I  have  no  ready  money 
now." 

"  Can  Your  Highness  give  me  a  date  when  a  com 
plete  or  partial  payment  can  be  made?  " 

Jean  Marie  was  becoming  thoroughly  exasperated. 
"  No,  I  cannot." 

"  Then  my  firm  has  requested  me  to  say  that  the 
paintings  must  be  reclaimed." 

Jean  Marie's  eyes  burned  the  man  through  and 
his  muscles  relaxed  only  when  he  heard  Cavarodossi 
strike  some  chords  on  the  piano  in  the  "  study  "  and 
begin  a  Beethoven  sonata.  The  loss  of  the  paintings 
would  rob  the  room  of  the  greater  part  of  its  ele 
gance,  as  Fran9ois  had  said.  The  friends  who  often 


THEFLAME  75 

called  on  the  Prince  would  know  that  he  had  either 
sold  the  pictures  to  raise  money  or  that  they  had 
been  seized  for  debt.  His  rage  was  near  bursting 
into  flame,  when  the  door  quietly  opened  and  Camille 
entered.  The  Prince  swung  round  and  a  startled 
exclamation  slipped  from  his  lips.  Mr.  Walsh  eyed 
the  two  with  surprise  and  curiosity. 

"  Pardon  me,"  Camille  said,  after  closing  the 
"  study  "  door  behind  her.  "  I  think  I  met  you  some 
days  ago  in  your  art  store,  Mr.  Walsh,  when  I  bought 
three  small  paintings." 

The  man  bowed.     "  I  remember  you,  Madam." 

The  color  fled  from  Jean  Marie's'  face. 

Camille  ignored  him,  and  looking  at  Mr.  Walsh 
with  her  calm  superiority,  said : 

"  His  Highness  and  I  have  been  great  friends  for 
many  years,  and  he  has  told  me  of  the  debt  which 
he  has,  unfortunately,  been  unable  to  pay.  I  am  be 
holden  to  His  Highness  for  many  favors  and  owe 
him  quite  a  large  sum  of  money."  She  turned  to 
the  Prince,  and  her  mobile  countenance  expressed 
nothing  but  the  purest  friendship  and  distress  felt 
for  a  friend  in  need.  "  I  beg,  Jean,  that  you  accept 
two  thousand  dollars  on  the  amount  I  owe  you." 

"  No  !  "  he  burst  forth. 

"  Yes,"  she  insisted  with  a  sweet  appeal  in  her 
voice.  "  One  would  think  that  I  am  offering  you 
money  that  is  not  already  your  own  by  rights." 
She  laughed  softly,  caressingly. 

Jean  Marie  caught  the  hint.  If  he  protested 
against  accepting  the  money,  it  would  prove  that 
Camille  did  not  owe  him  anything.  The  wisest 


76  THEFLAME 

course  would  be  to  follow  as  she  led.     She  held  his 
fate  in  her  hand. 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  assist  me  out  of  this  little 
dilemma,"  he  said  with  forced  pleasure  and  grati 
tude.  "  My  money  is  tied  up  in  speculations,  but 
no  doubt  I'll  be  overburdened  with  American  gold 
before  long."  His  light  laugh  was  unsteady. 

Mr.  Walsh  stood  quietly  studying  Camille,  but 
his  face  was  a  mask.  Jean  Marie  felt  like  thrashing 
him. 

"  I  am  glad  that  I  can  be  of  assistance  to  you," 
Camille  earnestly  said,  and  turning  to  the  creditor 
added :  "  His  Highness  can  pay  you  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Walsh  bowed.  "  Thank  you,"  in  a  calm  tone 
that  was  worse  to  Jean  than  a  blow.  "  Then  I  may 
expect  Your  Highness  ?  " 

"  Yes !  "     It  was  harsh  and  gruff. 

Mr.  Walsh's  hawk  eyes  rested  upon  the  Prince  for 
a  moment,  then  the  shadow  of  a  smile  flitted  across 
his  face  and  he  bowed  again  and  repeated :  "  Thank 
you.  I'll  not  disturb  you  any  longer."  He  cast  a 
last  piercing  look  at  Camille,  and  walked  from  the 
room  with  short,  quick  steps  and  closed  the  door. 

Jean  Marie  gave  a  gasp  of  liberation,  but  hot 
blood  was  surging  through  him. 

"  What  have  you  done  this  for ! "  he  demanded. 

Camille  surveyed  him  with  surprise. 

"  To  help  you,  of  course !  Did  you  want  the  fel 
low  to  sue  you  and  prove  to  the  public  that  you  are 
bankrupt  ?  " 

"  You  could  have  offered  me  this  assistance  to 
morrow  when  we  shall  be  alone.  Why  did  you  sub- 


THEFLAME  77 

mit  me  to  humiliation?  "  He  sank  into  a  chair  and 
pressed  his  hand  against  his  forehead. 

Camille  sprang  forward  and  threw  her  arms  about 
him. 

"  Forgive  me,  Jean !  It  was  reckless,  but  I  did  it 
to  help  you." 

Jean  Marie  thrust  her  from  him.  He  knew  why 
she  had  done  it.  "  Leave  me  alone !  "  he  growled. 
"  Go  back  in  there  with  the  others." 

Camille  looked  down  upon  him  and  the  grief  and 
pleading  died  in  her  eyes.  From  her  full,  arched 
lips  sprang  taunting  arrows  of  triumph  that  pierced 
him  through,  but  he  did  not  turn  towards  her.  With 
a  slow,  regal  step,  she  swept  back  to  the  "  study  " 
door,  and  without  casting  another  glance  at  Jean 
Marie,  opened  it  and  entered  the  room. 

Cavarodossi  was  finishing  the  Beethoven  sonata. 


CHAPTER  VI 

RICHARD  ROLFE  gave  a  grunt  of  disgust,  and 
lowering  his  newspaper  looked  over  the  top  of  it 
at  Gwendolyn,  who  was  picking  some  withered  blos 
soms  from  the  potted  plants  in  the  conservatory. 
She  was  fond  of  gardening  and  took  pride  in  her  rare, 
beautiful  flowers. 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  asked,  glancing  up. 

"  Another  international  marriage  that  has  proved 
a  fiasco !  One  more  honored  American  name  to  be 
dragged  through  the  divorce  courts !  " 

Gwendolyn  reddened  consciously.  "  How  unfortu 
nate!" 

"  It  is,  indeed !  "  Richard  sanctioned,  laying  his 
paper  on  his  knee  and  resting  penetrating  eyes  on  his 
sister.  "  I  wonder  how  many  years  it  will  take  to 
cure  American  girls  of  this  title-hunting  fever.  I 
should  think  that  there  had  been  failures  enough  for 
them  to  understand  the  dangers  of  such  a  venture. 
It  is  disgusting !  " 

Gwendolyn  bent  lower  over  the  flowers  and  did  not 
answer  at  once.  A  deep  color  dyed  her  cheeks  and 
her  throat,  which  was  revealed  by  her  white  morning- 
gown,  cut  V  shape. 

"  Then  you  believe  that  only  the  American  men 
make  good  husbands  ?  "  she  presently  asked. 

"  No,  I'm  not  so  conceited.     I  know  that  Europe 
78 


THEFLAME  79 

has  just  as  fine  men  as  we  have  here  in  the  United 
States,  and  I  am  not  speaking  of  the  true  aristocrats 
nor  of  the  middle  class;  I  am  referring  to  the 
*  noble  '  fortune-seekers,  who  come  to  this  country 
with  nothing  to  offer  but  titles  and  battered  char 
acters.  A  nobleman  is  all  right  if  he  is  clean  and 
has  done  something  to  prove  himself  a  man,  but  the 
majority  of  them  are  a  dubious  set,  because  they 
have  things  too  much  their  own  way,  and  their  titles 
cover  a  multitude  of  sins.  A  foreigner  like  Cava- 
rodossi  is  worth  something, —  he  is  intelligent,  sub 
stantial,  and,  above  all,  clean.  I  like  him,  and  the 
girl  who  marries  him  is  going  to  get  a  prize." 

Richard  gave  his  sister  a  sharp  look  which  she  did 
not  raise  her  head  to  see.  It  pleased  him  when  she 
said,  earnestly: 

"  He  is  an  estimable  man." 

"  There  is  a  vast  difference  between  him  and  Bour 
bon."  Richard  spoke  slowly  and  did  not  take  his 
eyes  from  Gwendolyn.  "  That  Frenchman  makes 
me  fidgety.  He  is  always  bowing,  and  playing  the 
cavalier  to  some  woman.  I  think  his  bait  is  thrown 
out  to  catch  the  largest  available  fortune.  I  don't 
believe  there  is  a  legitimate  dollar  back  of  him." 

Gwendolyn  jerked  off  a  flower  rather  impatiently. 
"  He  has  a  very  aristocratic  manner  and  appears 
to  have  been  brought  up  in  affluence,"  she  pro 
tested. 

"  Fine  feathers  don't  make  fine  birds,"  Richard 
quietly  remarked,  "  and  he  seems  to  be  all  feathers 
and  no  bird.  I'll  wager  he  hasn't  money  enough 
to  keep  a  wife  and  family,  for  all  he  is  so  dainty 


80  THE     FLAME 

and  elegant.  I  always  think  of  him  as  a  Claude 
Melnotte." 

Gwendolyn  glanced  up  with  startled  eyes.  "  Surely 
you  don't  doubt  his  title ! " 

"  No,  but  I  do  doubt  his  castles  and  his  wealth." 

"  I  don't." 

"  You  mustn't  place  too  much  faith  in  him,  Gwen. 
I  have  seen  more  of  the  world  and  of  the  different 
types  of  men  than  you  have,  and  it  doesn't  take  me 
long  to  spot  a  dead  beat, —  if  you  will  pardon  the 
expression." 

Gwendolyn  was  shocked,  not  at  Richard's  manner 
of  expression,  because  he  had  a  forcible  and  inele 
gant  way  of  speaking  when  he  was  aroused,  but  at  his 
opinion  of  the  Prince. 

"  You  shouldn't  say  such  an  unkind  thing !  "  she 
exclaimed,  turning  towards  him  with  unusual  anima 
tion. 

"  I'm  not  talking  for  the  public,"  he  retorted. 
"  This  is  between  ourselves.  The  next  time  he  comes, 
ask  him  to  tell  you  about  his  ancient  castle  and  see  if 
he  doesn't  imitate  Claude  Melnotte  describing  his 
phantom  home, — 

'  A  deep  vale 

Shut  out  by  Alpine  hills  from  the  rude  world, 
Near  a  clear  lake,  margined  by  fruits  of  gold 
And  whispering  myrtles ;  glassing  softest  skies 
As  cloudless,  save  with  rare  and  roseate  shadows, 
As  I  would  have  thy  fate !  *  " 

Richard  laughed.  "  That  is  pretty  good  for  a 
hard-fisted  old  banker,  isn't  it?  My  tutor  made  me 


THE     FLAME  81 

memorize  that  when  I  was  a  youngster,  but  I  have 
forgotten  the  rest  of  it.  I  believe  he  was  struggling 
to  awaken  the  enthusiasm  of  the  poet  and  the  lover 
in  me !  But  you  untie  the  Prince's  tongue.  He  will 
be  more  eloquent  and  actorlike.  I'm  not  much  on 
poetry." 

Gwendolyn  was  growing  angry.  "  No,"  she  said, 
"  you  understand  only  the  poetry  of  the  dollar  sign." 

Richard  laughed  good-naturedly.  "  I  notice  that 
it  is  a  poem  in  which  the  Europeans  are  keenly  inter 
ested." 

Sarcasm  played  around  Gwendolyn's  mouth  as  she 
turned  to  Richard,  and  asked: 

"  Are  they  any  keener  than  our  men  ?  " 

He  shrugged.  "  Perhaps  not,  but  our  men  are 
willing  to  earn  the  dollar." 

Gwendolyn  impatiently  flung  a  handful  of  flowers 
into  the  little  basket  beside  her. 

"  Do  you  think  that  the  Europeans  don't  work  as 
hard  as  we?  "  she  asked  in  a  poignant  tone. 

"  I  have  told  you,  Gwen,  that  I  am  referring  only 
to  the  fortune-hunters, —  those  who  are  trying  to  en 
snare  our  heiresses.  Tell  me  what  it  is  in  these  con 
scienceless  foreigners  that  you  girls  find  so  alluring." 

Gwendolyn  whirled  round  and  stood  erect,  drawn 
up  to  her  utmost  height.  A  deep  color  was  slowly 
dyeing  her  cheeks,  and  the  pupils  of  her  eyes  dilated 
until  the  iris  was  curtained  over. 

"  I  wish  I  could  tell  not  only  you,  but  all  the 
American  men,  why  it  is  that  we  find  these  foreigners 
so  attractive.  It  is  not  the  mere  title  that  fascinates, 
—  although  that  may  be  what  attracts  some  girls, — 


82  THEFLAME 

but  it  is  the  poetry  in  their  natures,  the  romance,  the 
love  of  music,  of  the  fine  arts;  it  is  their  intimate 
understanding  of  all  that  is  beautiful  and  inspiring 
in  life.  They  have  a  refinement,  a  '  polish  ' ;  they  un 
derstand  the  emotional  femininity  in  women,  and  they 
know  how  to  please.  They  believe  it  a  duty,  and 
find  it  a  pleasure  to  give  life  the  little  touches  of  senti 
ment  and  gallantry  which  make  us  remember  that  the 
romance  of  the  Middle  Ages  is  not  dead.  They  know 
how  to  form  the  sweet  little  phrases  that  mean  noth 
ing,  yet  everything.  With  the  European,  especially 
the  Latin,  love  comes  before  all  else.  But  the  Amer 
ican  man !  Tell  me,  Richard,  if  amongst  all  the 
wealthy  men  you  know  there  is  one  who  would  be  the 
sympathetic  mate,  the  friend,  the  companion  that 
Signer  Cavarodossi  would  be  to  a  wife.  Yet  he,  too, 
is  a  business  man,  but  not  one  so  eager  for  money  that 
he  forgets  the  beautiful  life.  This  is  the  land  of  com 
merce,  and  all  of  our  great  men, —  and  they  are  great, 
wonderful  men  in  their  one  way  —  are  what  Dickens 
calls  Scrooge  in  his  6  Christmas  Carol,' — 6  a  tight- 
fisted  hand  at  the  grindstone,'  and  if  they  were  not, 
they  couldn't  accumulate  so  many  millions ;  but  while 
amassing  these  tremendous  fortunes,  what  are  they 
to  their  families  ?  They  are  liberal  with  them,  proud 
of  them,  but  how  much  of  their  company  and  their 
thoughts  can  they  give  to  their  homes?  The  men 
must  keep  their  shoulders  to  the  wheel  or  the  wheel 
stops.  They  have  no  time  to  take  interest  in  the 
small  things  of  life.  There  is  no  existence  so  narrow, 
so  one-idead,  as  that  of  the  American  business  man. 
And  what  of  the  majority  of  the  young  men  who  are 


THEFLAME  83 

living  leisurely  on  their  father's  hard  earnings? 
They  are  absorbed  by  golf,  polo,  horses,  automobiles, 
vaudeville  artists,  and  clubs.  The  wife  can  give  her 
husband  his  freedom  in  return  for  an  extravagance 
of  gold.  She  can  have  her  pleasures,  her  friends,  her 
clubs,  but  where  is  the  home  life?  Such  marriages 
don't  unite  two  people  and  make  them  one.  Do  you 
remember,  Richard,  what  Signer  Cavarodossi  said 
the  other  night?  6I  don't  believe  in  clubs  for  mar 
ried  men.  Let  their  clubs  be  their  homes.'  The  for 
eigner  finds  his  greatest  joy  in  his  home,  and  it  is  this 
and  his  knowing  how  to  please  that  attracts  us." 

Gwendolyn  had  spoken  rapidly  with  an  earnest,  ex 
cited  thrill  in  her  voice,  and  now  that  she  had  finished, 
she  abruptly  turned  back  to  her  flowers,  but  her  hands 
were  trembling  and  the  color  in  her  cheeks  had  grown 
deeper. 

Richard  never  remembered  hearing  her  speak  at 
such  length,  and  he  watched  her  with  surprised  curi 
osity.  He  had  not  known  that  his  sister  had  ever 
thought  on  such  subjects.  He  had  not  realized  until 
now  that  she  was  no  longer  a  child,  and  the  realiza 
tion  startled  him. 

"  I  know  that  you  include  me  in  the  prosaic  life  of 
the  American  business  man,"  he  said  in  a  quiet, 
thoughtful  tone.  "  I  suppose  we  are  an  uninterest 
ing  lot,  not  the  kind  to  arouse  the  sentiment  in  our 
romance-loving  girls.  Perhaps  it  is  because  we 
starve  them  that  they  worship  our  actors  and  make 
foppish  matinee  idols  of  some  of  them !  " 

Gwendolyn's  laugh  was  a  little  unsteady,  and  she 
turned  towards  him  again. 


84  THEFLAME 

"  Yes,"  she  agreed.  "  Perhaps.  I  often  have 
thought,  Dick,  of  how  little  we  are  benefited  by  the 
millions  that  father  and  grandfather  have  left  us. 
A  fiftieth  part  would  give  us  the  pleasures  of  life  and 
none  of  the  worries.  You  are  spending  your  days 
and  many  of  your  nights  figuring,  planning,  schem 
ing,  and  for  what?  A  peasant  could  teach  us  beau 
ties  of  nature  and  joys  of  living  that  we  know  nothing 
of.  Such  money-madness  is  phantom-chasing." 

Richard  did  not  answer,  but  clasping  his  hands, 
rested  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  and  gazed  at  the 
floor. 

Gwendolyn  studied  him  and  quick  tears  trembled 
on  her  long  lashes. 

"  You  and  I  are  all  that  are  left  of  our  family, 
Dick,  and  you  are  always  so  busy  that  I  am  left  alone. 
I  am  a  home  body.  Clubs  and  cards  don't  interest 
me.  We  should  spend  more  time  together.  Our 
wealth  is  a  curse  when  it  enslaves  you  so  that  we  have 
no  time  for  comradeship.  What  would  a  foreigner 
be  to  me,  Dick,  if  you  and  I  could  be  chums?  This 
banking  business,  this  speculating,  and  fighting  side 
by  side  with  money-mad  men  is  robbing  you  of  the 
love  you  used  to  feel  for  the  little  joys  of  life.  Let 
some  one  else  take  your  place.  Let  us  be  young  to 
gether." 

She  threw  her  arms  about  him  and  he  pressed  her 
to  his  heart  and  kissed  her  soft  cheek  and  her  hair. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  Gwen.  Maybe  I  should 
pull  out  of  the  harness.  I  know  I  don't  get  much 
out  of  life  but  the  drudgery  of  it.  But  father  made 
a  name  as  a  business  man  and  as  a  multi-millionaire, 


THE     FLAME  85 

and  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  follow  in  his  footsteps  as 
near  as  I  can,  and  keep  up  the  glory  of  the  name." 

The  commercial  light  was  strong  in  his  eyes  when 
Gwendolyn  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  him. 

"  Your  life  is  your  own,  Dick,"  she  sighed.  "  You 
are  money-mad  like  the  others.  It  isn't  because  you 
are  greedy,  but  because  you  have  caught  the  Ameri 
can-enterprise  fever  as  you  say  our  girls  have  caught 
the  title-hunting  fever." 

"  My  malady  won't  cause  me  notoriety  and  dis 
grace,"  Richard  laughed. 

"  No.  Our  girls  are  foolish  to  marry  these  titled 
men  until  they  know  that  their  lives  have  been  good." 

"  That's  the  point !     It  should  be  insisted  upon." 

"  Of  course  it  should.  ...  I  wish  our  men 
knew  more  of  sentiment  and  romance." 

Richard  sharply  eyed  her  a  moment.  "  I  have  no 
objection  to  a  foreigner,  Gwen,  if  he  is  like  Cavaro- 
dossi,  or  even  an  eccentric  genius  like  Feleki,  because 
he  has  a  great  soul  and  I  believe  he  is  clean,  but  I'll 
be  hanged  if  I  relish  that  Prince  de  Bourbon !  " 

Gwendolyn  caught  a  quick  breath,  and  closing  her 
eyes,  rested  her  lips  against  his  forehead  and  did  not 
answer. 

Jean  Marie  sent  Gwendolyn  a  bouquet  of  tulips, 
a  basket  of  candy,  and  a  pretty  note  announcing  his 
intention  of  calling  in  the  afternoon.  "  The  flowers 
are  beautiful,"  Gwendolyn  was  saying  as  they  sat  in 
the  dainty  blue-and-gold  reception-room. 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  them.  I  sent  the  variegated 
tulips  because  they  mean, '  Your  eyes  are  beautiful,' ' 


86  THEFLAME 

answered  Jean  Marie,  giving  her  a  look  of  intense  ad 
miration.  He  was  gratified  that  the  uneasiness  she 
had  shown  in  his  presence  the  last  time  he  had  called 
was  not  apparent  to-day.  Perhaps  he  had  been  mis 
taken. 

"  Your  Highness  is  always  flattering  me,"  Gwen 
dolyn  blushingly  protested. 

"  The  truth  is  never  flattery,  Mademoiselle.  I 
admire  all  that  is  beautiful." 

Jean  Marie's  voice  was  soft  and  musical,  and  he 
seemed  perfectly  calm,  but  inwardly  he  was  raging, 
bleeding  from  wounded  pride  and  resentment.  He 
had  gone  that  morning  to  pay  for  his  paintings,  and 
had  not  seen  Mr.  Walsh,  but  one  of  his  partners. 
The  man  had  been  courteous  and  had  expressed  a  de 
sire  to  place  the  Prince's  name  again  on  their  books, 
but  Jean  Marie  felt  that  the  art  dealer  was  looking 
him  over  with  curiosity  and  a  tinge  of  sarcastic 
amusement.  He  was  positive  that  Mr.  Walsh  had 
told  the  man  that  a  mysterious  woman  had  given  the 
Prince  the  money  with  which  to  pay  his  debt,  and  he 
knew  that  this  would  start  an  uncomfortable  rumor. 
Camille  had  accomplished  her  aim  and  besides  had 
placed  Jean  Marie  more  within  her  clutches. 

"  The  beauties  of  life  overshadow  all  that  is  un 
lovely  in  it,"  the  Prince  went  on,  after  a  slight  pause, 
but  at  present  he  knew  his  words  to  be  anything  but 
true.  "  I  am  thankful  for  the  joy  of  living.  Your 
home  should  be  in  Europe,  Mademoiselle.  You  are 
so  fond  of  art.  Have  you  ever  been  abroad?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  was  only  eleven." 

"  That  is  too  young  to  understand  the  glories  and 


THEFLAME  87 

romance  of  the  Old  World.  Every  palace,  church 
and  government  building  is  a  living  page  of  history. 
My  own  castle  is  permeated  with  an  atmosphere  of  the 
adventure  and  romance  of  centuries  ago." 

"  Your  home  is  at  Versailles,  isn't  it?  "  asked  Gwen 
dolyn,  feeling  a  little  uneasy  when  she  thought  of 
Richard  calling  him  a  Claude  Melnotte. 

"  Yes,  and  it  is  a  charming,  picturesque  place.  I 
hope  that  when  you  visit  France  I  can  have  the  pleas 
ure  of  being  your  host." 

"  Thank  you.  Won't  you  tell  me  something  of 
your  castle  ?  "  Gwendolyn  knew  that  it  was  Rich 
ard's  poisoned  arrow  that  was  aggravating  her  curi 
osity  and  she  was  ashamed  that  she  succumbed. 

The  Prince  drew  his  chair  a  little  closer  and  his 
mild  brown  eyes  rested  upon  her  before  he  spoke  in 
his  slow,  quiet  tone. 

"  The  castle  is  old,  Mademoiselle,  centuries  old, 
built  of  gray  stone,  and  leading  up  the  terraces  are 
marble  steps  deeply  worn  by  the  many  feet  that  have 
trodden  them.  The  great  hall  and  salons  are  hung 
with  tapestries  and  paintings  from  the  brushes  of 
masters.  The  grand  stairway  leads  up  to  the  large 
bedchambers,  which  have  been  honored  by  such  guests 
as  kings,  queens,  statesmen,  and  the  beauties  of 
France.  The  armor  of  my  forefathers  adorns  the 
walls  together  with  their  portraits.  The  grounds 
surrounding  the  castle  are  romantically  beautiful. 
Rustic  seats  stand  under  the  shade  of  the  majestic 
old  trees,  and  the  entwining  branches  make  charming 
bowers,  delightful  for  those  whose  souls  are  thrilled 
by  the  beauties  of  nature  and  sentiment.  The  air  is 


88  THE     FLAME 

sweet  with  the  perfume  of  the  flowers  and  vibrant 
with  the  songs  of  the  birds  that  would  sing  to  you, 
Mademoiselle,  if  you  were  there.  Pretty,  murmur 
ing  fountains  play  half  hidden  among  the  roses  and 
foliage.  All  is  quiet  and  peaceful  and  stands  as  a 
monument  of  the  brilliant  and  picturesque  past." 

Gwendolyn  half  turned  away  as  she  listened.  It 
was  foolish  to  think  of  Richard's  little  taunt,  but  she 
vividly  remembered  that  Claude  Melnotte  had  told 
Pauline  of  the  perfumed  air,  the  birds  that  would  syl 
lable  her  name,  the  murmuring  fountains  and  the 
shady  bowers.  She  wished  that  Jean  Marie's  descrip 
tion  had  been  different. 

"  It  is  beautiful,"  she  softly  said.  "  I  hope  some 
day  to  see  it." 

Jean  Marie  mistook  the  emotion  in  her  voice,  and 
yet  it  was  not  altogether  a  mistake,  Because  Gwen 
dolyn  still  believed  in  him,  and  the  castle  he  described 
was  the  home  that  called  to  the  longing  in  her  heart. 

"  My  hospitality  is  always  at  your  service, 
Mademoiselle.  All  my  castle  needs  is  a  charming 
woman  to  be  its  mistress,  for  like  its  master,  it  is 
lonely  for  love  and  attention." 

Gwendolyn  raised  her  quivering  eyelids  and  glanced 
at  the  Prince.  His  ardent  gaze  held  her.  The  color 
deepened  in  her  cheeks  and  a  slow  light  kindled  in  her 
eyes,  answering  the  love  that  shone  in  his.  He  leaned 
forward,  and,  dropping  on  his  knee,  caught  her  hand 
and  raised  it  to  his  lips.  She  drew  a  quick  breath 
and  trembled. 

The  front  door  opened  and  closed  with  a  sharp 
fling.  It  was  Richard,  who  had  come  home  earlier 


THEFLAME  89 

than  usual  because  Gwendolyn  had  asked  for  his  com 
panionship. 

Jean  Marie  pushed  back  his  chair  and  slipped  into 
it  before  Richard  drew  aside  the  portiere  and  entered. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SEVERAL  nights  after  the  dinner  given  in  Jean 
Marie's  apartments,  Cavarodossi  called  on  Ca- 
mille  and  took  two  Italian  friends  with  him,  one  a 
violinist,  the  other  a  Neapolitan  baritone  who  sang 
the  pretty,  sentimental  songs  popular  in  his  lovely 
southern  home.  Believing  that  her  only  chance  of 
beginning  the  conquest  of  Mario  would  be  by  a  show 
of  modesty,  Camille  had  robed  herself  in  black  and 
covered  her  fair  shoulders  with  heavy  lace.  Her  de 
meanor  had  been  invested  with  a  certain  refinement 
that  had  pleased  Mario.  She  betrayed  the  vivacity 
of  the  cafe  singer,  but  none  of  the  abandon,  and 
Cavarodossi  believed  that  he  had  discovered  some 
thing  of  the  gentlewoman  in  her  nature  and  felt  more 
respect  and  admiration  for  her.  This  had  been  the 
first  of  the  musical  evenings  that  Camille  had  sug 
gested,  and  it  proved  a  delightful  success.  Monsieur 
Dubois  had  been  the  only  audience,  Jean  Marie  having 
remained  away  because  he  did  not  wish  to  betray  in 
terest  in  Camille  or  her  entertainment.  He  intended 
that  Cavarodossi  should  manifest  the  greatest  inti 
macy.  The  Prince  was  courteous  but  indifferent, 
and  in  a  polite  way  held  himself  aloof.  He  was  a 
clever  actor,  but  not  so  accomplished  that  Mario  was 
deceived. 

A  week  after  the  first  musicale,  Camille  suggested 
90 


THEFLAME  91 

a  second,  because  Cavarodossi  did  not  seem  inclined 
to  call  on  her  unless  others  were  present.  Mario  had 
asked  if  he  might  bring  his  friend,  the  distinguished 
violinist,  Monsieur  Feleki,  and  Camille  had  enthusi 
astically  consented.  She  was  very  fond  of  the  violin, 
she  had  said,  and  the  look  that  had  come  into  her 
eyes  had  aroused  Mario's  interest,  and  he  was  curious 
to  see  how  Camille  and  Feleki  would  impress  each 
other. 

On  the  night  that  Camille  had  set  for  the  musicale, 
Jean  Marie  was  invited  to  dine  at  the  club,  and  Ca 
mille  did  not  tell  him  of  the  company  she  was  expect 
ing,  because  she  found  more  pleasure  in  Mario's  so 
ciety  when  the  Prince  was  not  present,  and  also  she 
wanted  to  question  Feleki  concerning  Janos  Zrinyi. 
As  they  were  both  Hungarians  and  violinists,  and  as 
both  were  now  in  the  same  city,  they  surely  would 
know  something  of  each  other,  and  Camille  had  a 
great  desire  to  find  Janos,  to  speak  to  him,  to  feel 
that  he  was  near  her  again,  for  in  the  years  that  they 
had  been  separated,  hopeless  longing  had  matured  her 
love  for  him.  There  were  times  when  she  loathed  her 
present  life  and  yearned  to  live  in  the  past.  She 
knew  that  she  could  learn  nothing  of  Janos  from 
Cavarodossi,  because  he  had  denied  an  acquaintance 
with  the  violinist,  and  this  she  could  not  understand, 
unless  Jean  Marie  had  asked  him  to  be  silent.  She 
and  the  Prince  spoke  no  more  of  Janos. 

Camille  stood  in  her  bedroom  looking  searchingly 
at  her  reflection  in  the  mirror.  Had  her  appearance 
changed  since  her  last  meeting  with  Janos  ?  Had  the 
life  of  the  cafe  singer  left  an  indelible  scar  upon  her 


92  THEFLAME 

face?  No.  Yet  it  seemed  to  her  that  there  was  a 
difference.  A  glow,  a  radiance  had  intensified  her 
beauty,  and  she  loved  it,  but  would  he?  Jean  Marie 
was  fascinated  by  it,  but  Janos  was  a  different  man. 
He  was  like  Cavarodossi,  and  for  a  moment  she  hated 
Jean  Marie ;  then  the  abandon  in  her  nature  asserted 
itself,  and  she  tossed  back  her  head,  and  softly  laugh 
ing,  wished  that  the  Prince  were  near  to  admire  her 
new  gown.  It  was  a  clinging  costume  of  a  greenish- 
yellow  color,  covered  over  with  opalescent  spangles  as 
thin  as  fish  scales  and  when  she  moved  with  her  slow, 
sinuous  grace,  the  effect  was  strangely  serpentine. 

"  You  never  have  been  more  beautiful  than  you  are 
to-night,  Madame,"  said  the  maid,  as  she  went  back 
into  the  bedroom  from  the  parlor  and  studied  her  mis 
tress  with  critical  admiration. 

Camille's  eyes  brightened  and  she  smiled  as  she 
glanced  again  into  the  mirror. 

"  You  are  irresistible,"  the  maid  added,  "  and  the 
handsome  Italian  gentleman  will  be  vanquished  to 
night." 

A  thrill  of  proud  satisfaction  shot  through  Camille 
and  her  breath  came  quickly  through  her  red  lips. 

"  I  have  put  a  green  shade  on  the  electric  lamp  in 
the  reception-room,"  the  piquant  Celeste  went  on. 
"  Don't  you  think,  Madame,  that  the  lamp  will  fur 
nish  enough  light?  It  leaves  one  end  of  the  room 
dimly  illuminated,  and  you  are  magnificent  in  a  soft 
glow.  It  seems  to  enhance  the  brilliancy  of  your 
eyes.  And  then,  as  you  go  towards  the  piano  and  the 
strong  light  falls  upon  this  gown,  the  spangles  will  be 
strikingly  effective.  If  you  will  look  into  the  room, 


THEFLAME  93 

Madame,  I  am  sure  you  will  be  pleased  with  the  ar 
rangement." 

Camille  went  to  the  door  and  the  maid's  sharp  eyes 
followed  her  with  approval. 

"  Yes,  this  is  light  enough,"  the  singer  said.  "  One 
lamp  is  effective.  Take  the  atomizer  and  spray  the 
room  with  perfume." 

Celeste  obeyed  and  Camille  went  back  to  survey 
her  bright  image  in  the  mirror. 

Presently  a  knock  fell  upon  the  reception-room 
door. 

"  Come  here  as  soon  as  you  have  admitted  them 
and  fasten  the  diamond  star  in  my  hair,"  Camille 
said,  hurriedly,  as  she  closed  her  bedroom  door. 

Cavarodossi  and  Feleki  entered  the  reception-room ; 
the  violinist  paused  abruptly  and  hot  blood  surged 
to  his  cheeks.  The  perfume  gave  him  a  strange  sen 
sation,  because  it  was  the  kind  Diane  had  worn  the 
night  he  had  met  her  outside  the  cafe  in  Paris.  He 
put  his  violin  on  a  table  and  with  an  unsteady  hand 
gave  his  hat  and  overcoat  to  Celeste,  who  laid  them 
on  a  chair. 

"  Isn't  this  room  like  a  stage !  "  said  Cavarodossi 
in  a  low  tone,  after  the  maid  had  gone  back  to  Ca 
mille.  "  When  I  come  here,  I  always  feel  as  though 
I  were  an  actor, —  Mario  Cavarodossi  in  the  play." 

Feleki  did  not  answer,  but  stood  looking  round  with 
eyes  keenly  alert.  Diane  would  have  furnished  a 
room  with  this  same  gaudy  splendor.  A  nervousness 
was  stealing  over  him,  and  he  repeatedly  glanced  to 
wards  the  door  through  which  Camille  would  appear. 
He  wished  he  had  not  come.  Of  what  interest  would 


94  THE    FLAME 

this  cafe  singer  be  to  him  ?  He  despised  these  women 
whose  charms  lay  in  falseness  and  abandonment. 
Why  had  he  come  when  he  might  have  spent  the  even 
ing  with  Gwendolyn  and  her  friends  ?  He  was  angry 
with  himself  and  impatient  with  Cavarodossi  for  ex 
tending  this  invitation  to  him,  and  he  turned  to  take 
his  hat  and  coat  and  leave,  when  the  door  opened  and 
Camille  swept  into  the  room. 

"  Good  evening !  "  She  gasped  and  shrank  back 
into  the  shadow. 

"  Diane !  "     Feleki  blanched  and  swayed. 

Cavarodossi,  in  surprise,  caught  his  arm,  but 
Feleki  quickly  mastered  his  emotion. 

"  Janos  !  "  The  name  slipped  from  Camille's  lips 
with  a  startled  tremor,  and  her  eyes,  aflame,  devoured 
him.  "  Janos ! "  she  repeated  in  a  low,  quivering 
tone,  her  hand  slowly  reached  out  towards  him. 

He  drew  back  with  a  sudden  start,  as  if  her  finger 
tips  had  touched  him.  His  face  was  ashen,  his 
breath  came  hard,  and,  closing  his  eyes,  he  turned 
away  and  sank  into  a  chair. 

Cavarodossi  glanced  from  one  to  the  other,  and  a 
quick  sympathy  came  into  his  eyes  as  they  rested  on 
Feleki.  He  laid  his  hand  on  the  violinist's  shoulder 
and  said  in  a  tone  vibrant  with  feeling: 

"  Forgive  me  for  bringing  you.     I  didn't  know." 

Feleki  nodded.  "  It  is  all  right."  Drawing  a 
quick  breath  and  setting  his  lips  firm,  he  rose  and 
turned  towards  Camille  without  looking  at  her. 
"  You  know,  Cavarodossi,  the  story  of  Diane  Godin, 
so  you  understand." 

Surprise    flashed    into    Camille's    eyes,    then    they 


THE     FLAME  95 

flooded  over  with  hungry  love.  He  had  not  forgotten 
her ;  he  had  thought  enough  of  her  to  tell  the  story  of 
their  romance  to  Cavarodossi!  Her  heart  throbbed 
and  cried  out  for  the  love  that  Janos  had  once  felt  for 
her.  Jean  Marie  was  forgotten  and  overthrown  in 
the  tumult  that  raged  within  her.  She  wanted  Janos, 
she  would  have  him;  he  had  been  her  first  love,  her 
only  love.  She  would  crush  out  of  his  memory  these 
years  of  sinful  life  that  she  had  led  while  a  public 
singer.  Her  trembling  body  was  swayed  by  the  tor 
rent  of  desperate  blood  beating  through  her  veins. 
The  fire  that  rose  in  her  eyes  burned  the  curtain  that 
until  now  had  half  hidden  her  reckless,  primitive  soul. 

As  Cavarodossi  watched  her,  he  felt  himself  grow 
cold.  What  tiger  was  as  dangerous  as  this  desperate 
woman?  At  first  he  could  understand  but  a  small 
part  of  her  emotion,  then  slowly  he  began  to  suspect 
that  Jean  Marie  was  the  man  whom  Feleki  had  called 
the  viper  that  had  plunged  its  poisonous  fangs  into 
Diane.  Had  her  love  for  Janos  re-awakened, —  a 
love  made  hopeless  by  the  life  into  which  Jean  Marie 
had  led  her?  Cavarodossi  was  angry  with  himself  for 
allowing  his  curiosity  to  tempt  him  into  bringing  them 
together. 

Without  a  glance  at  Camille,  Janos  turned  away 
and  went  to  the  piano. 

Camille  sprang  forward,  and  all  the  pent-up  emo 
tion  that  was  swaying  her,  like  a  helpless  ship  tossed 
by  a  storm,  burst  from  her  lips  with  the  wild  cry : 

"  Janos !  " 

As  he  swung  round  with  a  start,  a  knock  fell  upon 
the  door.  Camille  drew  herself  up  with  a  jerk,  the 


96  THEFLAME 

muscles  of  her  face  contracted,  and  slowly  the  fire  and 
appeal  died  in  her  eyes.  She  was  a  rigid  statue  of  will. 

The  maid  came  from  the  bedroom  to  admit  the 
caller.  Camille,  Feleki  and  Cavarodossi  were  silent 
as  she  crossed  the  room.  The  two  men  were  watch 
ing  Camille's  wonderful  control  and  the  rapid  trans 
formation  of  her  countenance. 

Monsieur  Dubois  entered  with  his  usual  fluster. 
His  cheeks  were  red,  his  eyes  very  round  and  bril 
liant,  and  he  was  struggling  to  suppress  his  labored 
breathing. 

Camille  went  forward  and  greeted  him  with  her  ac 
customed  courtesy  and  bright  smile.  The  hand  she 
extended  was  steady. 

"Am  I  too  late  for  the  music?  I  have  hurried." 
Dubois  daintily  mopped  his  beaded  brow. 

"  No.  Monsieur  Feleki  has  not  yet  honored  us." 
Camille  motioned  for  them  all  to  be  seated  but  she 
did  not  look  into  Janos's  eyes. 

"  I  was  about  to  play,"  Feleki  quickly  said.  He 
preferred  playing  to  sitting  quiet  before  Camille  and 
struggling  with  an  idle  conversation. 

"  Then  pray  don't  let  my  coming  interfere.  It 
was  the  hope  of  hearing  you  that  brought  me  at  such 
an  undignified  pace." 

Feleki  rose  to  get  his  violin,  and  Dubois  settled 
back  in  his  chair  and  clasped  his  fingers.  The  palms 
of  his  hands  could  not  meet  without  an  effort. 

"  Isn't  His  Highness  coming  to-night?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  Camille  returned.  "  He  is  dining  at  a 
club," 


THEFLAME  97 

Janos  began  to  tune  his  violin,  and  Mario  went  to 
the  piano.  He  wished  the  evening  would  soon  end, 
because  he  feared  the  endurance  of  Camille's  quick 
control. 

Feleki's  violin  did  not  sing  with  its  accustomed 
soul.  It  lacked  the  haunting  wail  and  the  passion. 
It  did  not  speak;  it  was  only  an  instrument.  But 
Dubois  was  not  a  musician,  and  he  did  not  under 
stand.  Feleki  was  world  famous  ;  so  his  playing  must 
be  faultless. 

Camille  knew  that  this  was  not  the  true  Janos. 
There  was  nothing  stilted  and  forced  in  his  natural 
art,  but  she  joined  in  Dubois's  profuse  applause  and 
highly  complimented  him.  Janos  played  once  more, 
a  simple  little  melody,  then  put  his  violin  back  into 
its  case. 

"  Isn't  Mademoiselle  going  to  sing  for  us  ?  "  asked 
Dubois,  flashing  Camille  a  flattering,  languorous 
glance. 

"  No.     My  voice  isn't  clear  to-night." 

Dubois  was  crestfallen. 

"  Don't  look  so  unhappy ! "  laughed  Camille. 
"  Tell  us  the  news  of  to-day." 

"  Rather  the  news  of  to-night,"  he  answered. 
"  What  made  me  late  in  arriving  was  a  visit  I  paid 
the  Art  Institute  to  see  a  painting  that  is  on  exhibi 
tion  for  the  last  time  to-night.  I  wish  you  could 
have  seen  it,"  he  added,  turning  to  Cavarodossi. 
"  You  would  appreciate  it.  The  painter  is  a  young 
Italian,  Giordano  Severi,  who  is  a  student  in  the 
'  Academia  di  Belle  Arti '  in  Florence.  It  was  bought 


98  THEFLAME 

by  a  San  Franciscan  traveling  in  Italy  and  is  truly 
an  unusual  work  of  art." 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  seen  it,"  said  Mario.  "  I 
am  always  interested  in  the  products  of  young  Italy." 
He  drew  out  his  watch.  "  How  late  does  the  gallery 
keep  open  ?  "  He  wanted  to  leave  and  take  Feleki 
with  him. 

"  I  am  not  sure,  but  I  believe  until  eleven." 

Camille  gave  Mario  a  quick  glance  and  understood. 
She  wanted  to  be  alone. 

"  Take  Signor  Cavarodossi  to  see  the  picture,"  she 
said,  looking  back  to  Dubois.  "  You  are  all  welcome 
here  any  night,  but  you  can't  always  see  an  exquisite 
painting.  I  should  be  unhappy  if  I  thought  I  were 
depriving  you  of  any  pleasure.  Do  take  him  and 
Monsieur  Feleki,  also." 

Dubois  hesitated.  "  Well,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  per 
haps  I  will  take  Cavarodossi,  but  Monsieur  Feleki  is 
not  so  interested  in  Italian  art,  and  I  know  he  pre 
fers  to  remain  here  with  you,  charming  Mademoiselle, 
and  we  are  not  so  ungallant  as  to  leave  you  alone. 
Are  we  ?  "  he  asked  Feleki. 

"  No."     The  tone  was  dull. 

"  Yes,  do  take  him !  "  urged  Camille  with  a  forced, 
playful  pleading.  To  be  alone  with  Janos  I  Her 
heart  throbbed. 

"  No !  I  positively  refuse.  And  you  know  you 
don't  want  to  lose  him !  "  Dubois  slyly  shook  his 
finger  at  Camille,  and  she  reddened.  He  thought  it 
was  modesty  and  was  amused. 

Mario  glanced  anxiously  from  Camille  to  Feleki. 
He  wished  he  had  not  proposed  leaving.  It  was  dan- 


THEFLAME  99 

gerous  for  Janos  to  be  alone  with  her,  but  now  Mario 
could  not  refuse  to  go.  It  would  appear  that  he  was 
jealous. 

"  If  we  are  going  we  had  better  start,"  said  Du- 
bois,  "  or  we'll  not  have  time  to  see  the  picture." 

Mario  slowly  rose. 

"  I  know  it  is  hard  for  you  to  tear  yourself  away." 
Dubois's  pudgy  face  creased  into  an  expansive  smile. 
"  You  hypnotize  us,  bewitch  us,  Mademoiselle." 

Cavarodossi  took  Camille's  hand  as  they  said  good- 
by,  and  she  clutched  his  fingers  with  a  convulsive 
jerk.  He  looked  sharply  into  her  eyes,  and  she  low 
ered  her  head. 

Dubois  pressed  an  ardent  kiss  on  her  hand ;  his 
osculation  was  always  noisy. 

"  I'll  come  to-morrow  night,  if  I  may,"  he  said. 
"  This  fleeting  call  will  seem  like  a  dream." 

"  You  are  always  welcome."  Camille  knew  how  to 
make  her  words  ring  true. 

Feleki  bade  them  good-night  and  went  and  sat  on 
the  piano  stool  and  began  to  fold  his  music  together. 

As  her  departing  guests  stepped  out  into  the  cor 
ridor,  Camille  closed  the  door  and  abruptly  locked  it. 
Feleki  did  not  turn.  She  stood  for  a  moment  with 
her  back  against  the  door  and  her  hand  behind  her 
clutching  the  knob.  The  blood  slowly  mounted  to 
her  cheeks,  then  as  slowly  faded,  and  her  eyes,  be 
ginning  to  flame,  were  half  concealed  by  the  quiver 
ing  lids.  Suddenly  she  sprang  forward  and  fell  pros 
trate  at  Janos's  feet  and  buried  her  face  in  the  white 
fur  rug. 

He  sprang  up. 


100  THE     FLAME 

"  Don't,  Diane !  "  he  said,  unsteadily.  "  I  am 
going.  We  mustn't  meet  again." 

In  an  instant  she  was  on  her  knees  clinging  to  him. 

"  Janos !     Pity  me !  " 

He  broke  from  her  clutch  without  touching  her, 
but  she  threw  herself  forward  and  seized  his  hand. 

"  Don't !  "  he  said,  and  in  his  tone  there  was  the 
mingling  of  emotion  and  repulsion. 

She  knew  he  felt  that  pollution  was  in  her  touch 
and  desperation  surged  through  her  again. 

"  Pity  me !     Forgive  me !  "  broke  from  her  lips. 

"  I  could  forgive  you  many  things,  Diane,  but  not 
this  coming  to  America  with  him  in  search  of  a 
wealthy  bride." 

"  How  dare  you  accuse  me  of  such  a  thing !  "  she 
hotly  demanded,  rising.  "  I  did  not  come  here  with 
Jean,  and  if  he  is  searching  for  a  wealthy  girl,  he  has 
not  told  me  of  it.  I  arrived  in  San  Francisco  but 
three  weeks  ago." 

Feleki  looked  into  her  eyes  and  knew  that  she  told 
the  truth. 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  quietly  said. 

She  walked  away  from  him  into  the  shadow.  Her 
breath  was  coming  short  and  hard,  and  the  madness 
was  stealing  through  her  again.  She  would  not  give 
him  up !  She  would  kill  the  repulsion  he  felt  for  her, 
but  she  must  show  him  calmness. 

"  Why  did  you  change  your  name  when  you  went 
on  the  concert  stage?  "  she  asked  in  a  low  tone  that 
was  strained  and  unnatural. 

"  Because  my  own  name  is  unpronounceable  for 
English-speaking  people."  He  had  put  his  music 


THE    FL-AME  101 

into  his  violin  case  and  had  fastened  the  last  strap. 
Without  giving  Camille  a  glance,  he  went  and  took 
his  hat  and  overcoat  from  the  chair  near  her. 

Three  light  knocks  came  on  the  door,  a  pause,  and 
then  a  repetition. 

With  a  low  cry,  Camille  sprang  forward  and  threw 
her  arms  about  Janos. 

"  It's  Jean !  "  she  whispered,  but  her  fear  of  their 
meeting  was  forgotten  in  the  joy  of  clasping  him 
again  in  her  arms.  Her  lips  were  close  to  his  ear. 
"  He  mustn't  see  you,"  she  murmured,  and  a  kiss 
brushed  his  cheek. 

With  a  start,  Feleki  jerked  away.  'He  turned  and 
looked  at  her  coldly. 

"  Why  should  I  run  away  from  him  ?  "  There  was 
a  stinging  contempt  in  his  tone. 

"  For  my  sake,  Janos  !  For  me !  "  she  nervously 
pleaded,  seizing  his  arm.  "  He  will  make  a  scene. 
We  mustn't  have  a  scandal."  She  ran  to  the  table, 
caught  up  his  violin,  and  thrust  it  into  his  hand. 
"  Go  into  my  bedroom.  Quick !  Quick !  You  can 
leave  by  the  door  in  there.  Oh,  Janos,  do  hurry !  " 
She  opened  her  bedroom  door  and  forced  him  in  be 
fore  he  could  resist.  Celeste  was  not  there.  Camille 
closed  the  door  behind  him  and  braced  herself  against 
it. 

The  three  knocks  were  repeated,  but  this  time  they 
were  loud  and  insistent. 

Camille  drew  a  quick  breath,  then  hurried  to  the 
door  and  opened  it. 

Jean  Marie  stepped  in  and  looked  round  with  sur 
prise  and  anger. 


102  THE     FLAME 

"Who  was  here  when  I  first  knocked?"  he  de 
manded.  "  Why  didn't  Celeste  admit  me?  " 

"  She  has  gone  to  order  supper."  Camille's  tone 
grew  icy  in  her  struggle  to  make  it  natural. 

"  I  heard  a  man  speak  while  I  was  waiting."  Jean 
Marie  gave  her  a  sharp  glance.  "  You  are  excited. 
You  are  trembling.  Who  was  here !  " 

"  No  one.  Cavarodossi  and  Dubois  left  a  few 
minutes  ago  to  see  a  painting  in  the  Art  Insti 
tute." 

Jean  Marie  looked  steadily  into  her  eyes,  and  his 
face  reddened.  Dropping  his  hat  on  a  chair,  he  went 
towards  her  bedroom  door. 

"  Jean !  "  she  hotly  exclaimed. 

"  I  want  to  know  whom  you  are  hiding."  He 
threw  open  the  door. 

Camille  sprang  forward. 

Jean  Marie  stepped  deliberately  into  the  room.  It 
was  empty. 

Camille  pressed  her  hand  to  her  throbbing  heart. 

"Are  you  satisfied?  "     She  laughed  tauntingly. 

Jean  Marie  ignored  her  and  went  farther  into  the 
room.  His  alert  eye  caught  sight  of  a  little  black 
object  lying  on  the  floor  near  the  door  leading  out 
into  the  corridor.  He  went  and  picked  it  up.  It 
was  a  small,  thin  leather  card-case. 

Camille  was  at  his  side  in  a  moment.  The  Prince 
glanced  up  at  her  with  a  triumphant  smile  in  his  eyes. 
He  slowly  opened  the  case.  Across  it  in  gold  letters 
was  stamped  "  Janos  Feleki." 

An  exclamation  of  rage  and  astonishment  broke 
from  Jean  Marie. 


T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E  103 

"  He  has  been  here !  "  he  said,  as  he  slipped  the 
case  into  his  pocket. 

Camille  faced  him  with  defiance. 

"  Yes.  Cavarodossi  brought  him.  You  thought 
you  would  keep  us  apart  by  not  telling  me  the  name 
he  is  now  using,  but  Fate  has  played  you  a  trick." 

The  Prince  paled.  He  had  not  only  Camille  to 
fear,  but  now  he  was  even  more  at  Feleki's  mercy. 
Anger  slowly  returned  to  his  eyes.  Camille  under 
stood  his  apprehension  and  said  in  a  mocking  tone 
that  cut  like  a  rapier: 

"  You  seem  uneasy,  Jean.  Are  you  afraid  of  the 
result  of  Janos's  meeting  with  me?" 

"  Afraid !  "  Jean  Marie  contemptuously  echoed. 
"  What  have  I  to  fear  from  a  Hungarian  fiddler?  " 

Camille  smiled  significantly. 

"  Give  me  that  card-case." 

"  No !  He  will  receive  it  at  a  moment  when  he 
cares  least  to  have  it."  A  hateful  light  was  in  the 
Prince's  eyes. 

"  You  can't  make  trouble  for  him,  Jean,  but  he  can 
ruin  you." 

"  We'll  see  what  I  can  do !  "  A  tinge  of  bravado 
was  in  his  tone,  but  he  knew  that  he  was  powerless. 

Camille  shrugged  and  went  back  into  the  reception- 
room.  She  felt  that  danger  was  passed  where  Janos 
was  concerned,  for  she  believed  that  the  only  harm 
that  could  come  to  him  would  have  been  by  Jean 
Marie's  sudden  meeting  with  him  in  her  apartments. 
She  went  to  the  piano  and  began  to  sing,  but  the  ex 
citement  and  emotion  that  had  torn  her  made  her 
voice  unsteady  and  hoarse. 


104  THE     FLAME 

Jean  Marie  followed  her  back  into  the  room.  He 
went  to  the  window,  raised  the  shade,  and,  thrusting 
his  fists  down  deep  into  his  pockets,  stood  looking, 
unseeingly,  out  into  the  street  with  fear,  anger  and 
revenge  playing  havoc  in  his  brain. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AFTER  Camille  had  forced  Janos  into  her  bed 
room  and  closed  the  door,  he  stood  still  wonder 
ing  what  he  should  do,  whether  he  should  go  back  into 
the  reception-room  and  meet  Jean  Marie  or  leave  as 
Camille  had  begged  him  to  do.  .  .  .  He  would 
leave.  Jean  Marie  would  never  know  of  his  coming, 
and  no  trouble  would  be  caused  for  Camille. 

Janos's  alert  eyes  swept  round  the  room.  The 
disorder  was  typical  of  the  Diane  of  old.  Every 
chair  was  laden  with  clothes,  several  pairs  of  slippers 
were  scattered  over  the  floor,'  and  on  the  bureau  lay 
her  jewels  in  confusion.  The  room,  the  atmosphere 
were  permeated  with  the  woman's  dashing,  reckless 
character;  it  was  like  a  living  thing,  and  Janos  felt 
himself  again  in  Diane's  embrace.  He  caught  a 
sharp  breath  and  started  to  leave  the  room.  On  the 
foot  of  the  bed  lay  a  dainty  handkerchief,  and  with  a 
quick  impulse,  he  seized  it  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 
It  was  scented  with  the  same  perfume,  and  under  the 
spell  of  his  emotion  he  thrust  it  into  his  coat.  He 
heard  Camille  close  the  reception-room  door,  and  Jean 
Marie's  angry  tones  came  to  him  distinctly.  Casting 
a  last  glance  about,  he  hurried  to  the  door.  His  over 
coat  slipped  from  his  arm  and  he  jerked  it  up,  not 
noticing  the  card-case  that  fell  from  the  pocket. 
Softly  closing  the  door,  he  went  quickly  down  the 
corridor. 

105 


106  THE     FLAME 

As  he  stepped  out  into  the  street,  the  cool  night  air 
and  the  brisk  wind  that  struck  him  were  welcome  and 
refreshing.  He  had  drawn  on  his  overcoat  and  now 
he  fastened  it  about  his  throat.  The  St.  Francis 
Hotel,  where  he  was  living,  was  eight  blocks  away,  and 
he  decided  to  walk,  so  that  his  turbulent  emotions 
might  calm. 

Camille's  bright  image  would  not  vanish  from  his 
mind.  Again  he  could  see  her  throw  herself  pros 
trate  at  his  feet;  he  could  feel  the  pressure  of  her 
trembling  arms  as  she  clung  to  him,  and  her  quivering 
lips  as  they  lightly  caressed  his  cheek.  The  vivid 
memory  of  her  desperation,  her  madness,  thrilled  him 
and  he  breathed  hard  and  fast  as  he  hurried  on. 
Then,  like  the  piercing  of  a  poisoned  dart,  came  to 
him  the  realization  that  she  was  no  longer  Diane 
Godin,  but  Camille  Dubray,  the  cafe  singer,  the  toy 
of  the  idle  rich. 

"  O  God !  "  he  muttered,  and  his  voice  was  hoarse 
with  unshed  tears. 

He  reached  the  St.  Francis  and  went  up  to  his  room. 
An  exclamation  of  surprise  and  anxiety  broke  from 
his  valet's  lips  when  he  saw  his  master's  white,  hag 
gard  face. 

"  Are  you  ill,  Monsieur  ?  "  he  asked,  quickly  going 
forward.  "  Shall  I  get  you  something  hot  to  drink?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.  I  am  all  right.  Leave  me  alone. 
I'm  not  going  to  bed  yet." 

The  valet  gave  him  a  furtive,  anxious  glance  as  he 
went  into  the  adjoining  room  and  closed  the  door. 

When  he  was  alone,  Feleki  began  walking  to  and 
fro.  Once  he  caught  his  reflection  in  the  mirror  and 


T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E  107 

abruptly  halted,  astonished  at  the  pallor  of  his  face 
and  the  hollowness  and  feverish  brilliancy  of  his  eyes. 
He  turned  and  threw  himself  face  downward  on  a 
couch.  Suddenly  he  arose  and  started  from  the  room. 
Cavarodossi  also  was  living  at  the  St.  Francis.  Fe- 
leki  went  to  his  apartment,  and  found  Mario  in  the 
corridor,  unlocking  his  door. 

"  Hello !  "  he  exclaimed  with  assumed  lightness,  as 
Feleki  drew  near,  but  as  he  looked  into  the  violinist's 
eyes,  his  face  sobered  and  he  grasped  Janos's  hand 
and  gave  it  a  sympathetic  shake. 

They  entered  the  room,  and  Cavarodossi  turned  on 
the  electric  light  and  gave  Feleki  another  sharp  look. 

"  Did  anything  serious  happen  after  I  left  ?  "  he 
asked,  as  he  offered  Janos  a  chair  and  opened  a  box 
of  cigars. 

"  No.  She  understands  that  I  am  lost  to  her  for 
ever." 

Cavarodossi  slowly  shook  his  head.  "  As  long  as 
there  is  life  in  her  body,  she  will  hope." 

"  Then  that  is  her  punishment."  Feleki  drew  his 
unsteady  hand  across  his  brow. 

Mario  studied  him  a  moment.  "  Do  you  know, 
Feleki,"  he  said,  as  he  sat  down  opposite  Janos  and 
took  a  cigar  from  the  box,  "  I  felt  sorry  for  her  to 
night.  I  never  before  have  seen  a  soul  laid  bare, 
and  I  shall  never  forget  this.  She  loves  you,  and  I 
believe  if  you  should  take  her  from  this  life  she 
would  be  true." 

Janos  gave  Cavarodossi  a  quick  look  and  resent 
ment  flashed  into  his  eyes. 

"Why   do   you   say  this   to   me?"  he   demanded. 


108  THE    FLAME 

"  I  love  Diane  Godin,  but  I  hate  Camille  Dubray. 
Diane  is  dead  forever.  Tell  me,  Cavarodossi,  would 
you  marry  Camille  Dubray,  or  any  such  woman  ?  " 

Mario  hesitated.  "  This  is  a  question  that  requires 
much  thought,  and  perhaps  I  would  not  say  in  every 
case  what  I  do  now, —  that  this  woman  deserves  a 
chance,  for  she  is  not  wholly  bad.  I  believe  that  it 
was  youth  and  poverty  that  led  her  astray." 

The  resentment  faded  from  Feleki's  eyes,  and  he 
sighed. 

"  It  was  fortunate  that  Bourbon  did  not  come  to 
night,"  Mario  added. 

"  He  did,  after  you  left." 

Cavarodossi  leaned  forward.     "  What  happened?  " 

"  I  didn't  meet  him.  She  begged  me  to  leave  by 
her  bedroom  door  and  I  did.  Have  you  guessed  that 
Bourbon  was  the  man  who  took  Diane  away  from 
me?" 

"  Yes." 

Feleki  nodded,  and  laying  his  cigar  on  a  tray,  un 
crossed  his  knees,  and  came  forward  in  his  chair. 

"  Cavarodossi,"  he  said  with  a  quiet  force  in  his 
voice,  "  I  want  you  to  help  me." 

"  Yes,  if  I  can." 

"  I  am  convinced  that  Bourbon  is  trying  to  win 
Miss  Rolfe,  and  it  has  got  to  stop.  He  is  not  in  love 
with  her.  She  is  not  the  kind  of  a  woman  he  admires. 
It  is  her  money  he  is  after  and  he  would  squander 
every  dollar  of  it,  then  leave  her  penniless.  She  is  a 
sweet,  unsuspecting  girl  and  she  must  be  saved  from 
this  vulture.  I  could  denounce  Bourbon,  but  I  don't 
want  to  unless  I  am  forced  to  it.  I  don't  wish  no- 


THE     FLAME  109 

toriety  and  scandal,  nor  do  I  wish  Bourbon  to  think 
that  I  am  stooping  to  revenge.  But  you  are  on 
friendly  terms  with  Miss  Rolfe  and  can  have  some 
influence  with  her,  because  it  is  evident  that  she  likes 
you  well."  Feleki  glanced  away,  not  caring  to  no 
tice  the  color  that  rose  to  Cavarodossi's  cheeks,  but 
the  blush  told  him  all  he  wished  to  know.  "  You 
and  Mr.  Rolfe  are  good  friends,"  he  went  on.  "  Give 
him  a  hint  that  Bourbon's  habits  are  none  too  good. 
I  don't  like  to  speak  to  him,  because  we  have  met 
only  three  or  four  times  and  he  might  think  me  of 
ficious,  but  something  must  be  done  and  you  can  do 
it  better  than  I,  because  I  am  almost  a  stranger  to 
Miss  Rolfe  and  her  brother." 

"  I'll  gladly  assist  in  the  breaking  off  of  that 
match,"  Mario  gravely  said.  "  I  don't  know 
whether  it  is  title  or  romance  that  has  ensnared  Miss 
Rolfe,  or  perhaps  the  ladies  find  Bourbon  a  lovable 
fellow." 

Feleki  impatiently  shrugged.  "  Whatever  it  is, 
she  must  be  made  to  see  the  real  man, —  the  hypo 
crite  unadorned." 

"  Yes,"  sanctioned  Mario,  "  and  to-morrow  I'll 
begin  to  shear  the  glory  of  this  fortune-hunter." 

"  Win  her  yourself ;  then  we  will  know  she  is  safe." 
Feleki  spoke  lightly,  but  Cavarodossi  knew -that  he 
was  in  earnest. 

"  She  is  a  lovely  girl,"  was  all  he  said. 

"  Yes,  and  keep  her  so.  Don't  let  that  viper  claim 
a  second  victim."  The  faint  color  that  had  returned 
to  Janos's  face  left  again,  and  he  rose.  "  Who 
would  have  thought  that  here  in  far-away  San  Fran- 


110  THE    FLAME 

cisco  I  would  meet  him  —  and  Diane.  But  no,  she 
is  no  more  Diane.  She  will  never  be  anything  now 
but  Camille  Dubray.  If  you  could  have  known  her 
as  she  was  at  eighteen !  " 

Cavarodossi  rose  and  put  his  arm  round  Feleki's 
shoulders.  "  Forget  her,"  he  said  feelingly.  "  Na 
ture  heals  every  wound,  even  death." 

"  There  is  one  affliction  it  cannot  heal, —  the  living 
death." 

Mario's  arm  slipped  from  his  shoulder.  "  Staying 
here  will  give  you  pain,"  he  presently  said.  "  Go 
away  and  save  yourself  this  suffering." 

"  No,  not  until  I  know  Miss  Rolfe  is  safe." 

"  Leave  everything  to  me." 

"  You  may  need  me.  Proofs  may  be  necessary. 
I'll  not  see  Diane  again.  We  can  be  in  the  same 
city  here  without  meeting  as  well  as  in  Paris.  I'll 
say  good-night,  Cavarodossi.  I  am  going  to  bed. 
I'm  tired." 

"  Good-night !  When  we  win,  we'll  have  done 
something  worth  while." 

"  Yes." 

They  shook  hands  and  parted. 

Janos  returned  to  his  room  and  went  immediately 
to  bed,  and  when  he  was  alone  in  the  dark,  he  buried 
his  face  in  his  pillow  and  hot  tears  flowed  without  re 
straint. 

The  next  afternoon  when  Cavarodossi  called  at 
Gwendolyn's  home,  the  butler,  returning  to  the  re 
ception-room,  asked  Mario  to  follow  him  into'  the 
large  flower  garden  back  of  the  Rolfe  home.  In  a 


THE    FLAME  111 

rose-covered  latticed  bower  sat  Gwendolyn,  embroid 
ering. 

"  You  are  industrious,  Signorina,"  said  Mario, 
bowing  over  her  hand. 

"  I  always  like  to  be  doing  something."  She 
smiled  and  motioned  him  to  a  seat  opposite  her. 
A  little  work-table  was  between  them.  "  I  am  not 
a  society  girl,  so  I  must  employ  myself  in  some  other 
way." 

"  This  great  mansion  must  monopolize  much  of 
your  time." 

"  Yes,  it  does.  Two  months  after  I  was  gradu 
ated  from  the  convent  and  returned  home,  Richard 
discharged  the  housekeeper  and  let  me  have  full  man 
agement,  and  I  have  kept  it  ever  since." 

The  modest  pride  in  her  tone  pleased  Mario,  and  he 
said,  earnestly : 

"  I  congratulate  you,  Signorina,  on  your  ability. 
I  admire  a  woman  who  is  the  true  mistress  and  super 
intendent  of  her  home.  A  dwelling  is  never  a  home 
when  it  is  left  to  a  servant's  care.  The  home  life, 
the  home  love,  is  always  missing." 

"  That  is  my  opinion  and  I'll  never  renounce  my 
position,  unless  Richard  marries." 

"  Don't  you  intend  ever  to  marry  ?  "  Mario  asked 
with  a  light  laugh. 

The  color  that  rose  to  Gwendolyn's  cheeks  rivaled 
the  pink  of  her  gown. 

"  Oh,  perhaps,  some  day,"  she  said,  "  but  don't 
you  think  I'd  make  a  charming  old  maid,  or  rather  a 
bachelor  girl,  as  she  is  more  graciously  styled  now  ?  " 


112  THE     FLAME 

"  You  are  charming  under  any  and  all  condi 
tions,  Signorina,  but  I  should  prefer  to  see  you  the 
wife  of  some  good,  respected  man." 

"  That's  the  only  kind  I'd  have !  " 

"  Then  study  him  well  and  be  sure  that  he  reaches 
your  expectation  in  every  way." 

"  I  can't  be  sure.  Marriage  is  a  lottery,  you 
know." 

"  But  it  needn't  be  quite  so  much  of  a  lottery  if 
it  is  given  more  serious  study.  A  man's  past  life 
should  be  critically  examined  before  he  is  accepted, 
and  if  his  morals  have  been  loose  and  his  habits 
irregular,  he  should  be  rejected.  I  don't  believe  in 
killing  the  fatted  calf  for  the  prodigal  son.  Some 
men  are  permanently  redeemed,  others  temporarily 
and  the  redemption  of  the  latter  usually  comes  about 
because  there  is  something  in  sight  for  their  per 
sonal  gain.  My  laws  are  rigid  where  marriage  is 
concerned." 

"  You  are  right."  Gwendolyn's  tone  was  em 
phatic  and  she  looked  Mario  full  in  the  eyes. 

He  was  gratified,  for  it  told  him  that  a  title  and 
castles  could  not  blind  her  to  all  else. 

"  I  read  something  in  the  newspapers  this  morning 
that  pleased  me,"  he  said.  "  An  American  heiress 
has  refused  to  marry  a  titled  foreigner  because  she 
has  discovered  that  he  has  an  unspeakable  past.  I 
admire  her  good  sense." 

"  Don't  you  be  too  hard  on  the  titled  men,"  laughed 
Gwendolyn.  "  Remember  that  your  own  country 
has  its  noblemen." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  why  I  am  wary  of  them.     If 


THE     FLAME  113 

you  lived  in  a  title-ridden  land  you  would  under 
stand  that  princes  and  dukes  are  no  better  than  you, 
yourself,  and  in  most  cases  not  half  so  good.  I  am 
always  suspicious  of  noblemen,  especially  those  in 
America  who  have  no  apparent  reason  for  being 
here." 

While  Mario  had  been  speaking,  he  had  taken  up 
a  book  from  the  table  and  began  glancing  over  it. 
His  tone  was  careless  and  impersonal  and  the  quick 
resentment  that  Gwendolyn  had  felt  died  before  she 
retaliated.  He  looked  very  calm  and  innocent  of 
offense. 

"  All  noblemen  can't  be  bad  men,"  she  said,  imi 
tating  his  careless  tone. 

"  Surely  not,  Signorina.  In  Italy  there  are  many 
who  are  estimable  men,  and  it  is  the  same  in  every 
country." 

"  Certainly."  Gratitude  and  pleasure  were  in  her 
voice. 

"Are  you  a  devotee  of  Byron?"  Mario  asked, 
glancing  again  at  the  book  he  held. 

"  Yes.     I  love  his  poetry." 

Mario  turned  over  some  pages.  "  He  loved  Italy," 
he  said.  "  I  greatly  admire  his  '  Childe  Harold's 
Pilgrimage.'  "  He  opened  to  the  fourth  canto  of 
that  poem.  "  You  must  see  my  country,  Signorina." 

"  Yes.     I  wish  to  visit  Italy  and  France." 

"  Italy !  "  he  insisted,  and  laughed.  "  I  am  bold 
enough  to  declare  that  my  country  is  the  most  beau 
tiful  on  earth." 

"  You  are  justly  proud,  no  doubt,  but  I  am  deeply 
interested  in  France,  because  the  Prince  de  Bourbon 


114  THE    FLAME 

has  told  me  such  charming,  romantic  stories  of  his 
country.  Think  of  one's  emotion  when  entering  the 
palaces  where  in  the  past  kings,  queens  and  states 
men  have  lived  and  made  history !  " 

"  Some  very  grim  history,  Signorina." 

"  You  are  jealous !  " 

Mario  laughed.  "  Perhaps,  yet  not  of  France, 
but  of  His  Highness,  Prince  Jean  Marie." 

She  blushed  under  his  glance. 

"  If  you  don't  like  the  '  grim  '  history,  what  of 
the  romance?  Isn't  it  thrilling  to  see  the  places  in 
which  the  courtly  cavaliers  have  loved  and  fought  for 
love?" 

"  I  didn't  know  that  you  were  so  fond  of  adventure 
and  the  heroic  knights  of  old !  " 

"  Oh,  yes !     I  am  satiated  with  Dumas." 

"  Then  I  must  renew  my  practice  with  the  sword 
and  challenge  the  Prince  de  Bourbon  to  mortal  com 
bat.  In  olden  days  the  lady  fair  bestowed  her  hand 
upon  the  winning  cavalier.  Will  you  do  the  same?  " 

"  I'll  consider  while  you  and  the  Prince  are  in 
training."  Her  eyes  brightened  and  she  blushed 
again. 

"  I'll  begin  to-morrow.  But  now,  Signorina,  what 
has  the  Prince  told  you  about  the  beauties  of  nature 
to  be  found  in  France?  Have  his  tales  been  only 
of  valor  and  bloodshed?  " 

"  No.  He  has  told  me  of  his  castle  and  the  ro 
mantically  beautiful  grounds  surrounding  it." 

"  That  should  not  impress  you  so  deeply.  Look 
at  this  lovely  bower  in  which  we  are  sitting.  See 
the  gorgeous  flowers  before  us.  I'll  wager  his  gar- 


THE     FLAME  115 

den  is  not  so  brilliant  and  beautiful  as  this.  He 
has  been  playing  on  your  imagination  with  tales  of 
the  past.  I  am  going  to  give  you  a  picture  of  Italy 
as  it  is  in  the  present,  an  indelible  picture  that  nature 
has  made.  I'll  read  from  Byron  because  I  don't 
want  the  Prince  to  outwit  me  in  poetical  expression. 
Now,  lay  down  your  sewing,  put  your  mind  in  a  re 
ceptive  state,  and  listen  !  " 

Gwendolyn  laughed  and  complied.  Resting  her 
head  against  the  back  of  her  chair,  she  closed  her  eyes 
for  a  moment. 

As  Mario  studied  her  sweet  young  beauty,  the 
color  slowly  rose  to  his  face  and  a  determined  light 
shone  in  his  eyes.  He  would  not  let  Jean  Marie  steal 
this  lovely,  trusting  girl  and  crush  her. 

She  slowly  opened  her  eyes  and  turning  them,  half 
veiled  by  her  long  lashes,  to  Mario,  said  with  a  pretty 
smile: 

"  I  am  ready." 

He  began  in  a  low  tone  that  was  full  of  feeling : 

*  But  my  soul  wanders ;  I  demand  it  back 
To  meditate  amongst  decay,  and  stand 
A  ruin  amidst  ruins;  there  to  track 
Fallen  states  and  buried  greatness,  o'er  a  land 
Which  was  the  mightiest  in  its  old  command, 
And  is  the  loveliest,  and  must  ever  be 
The  master-mould  of  Nature's  heavenly  hand, 
Wherein  were  cast  the  heroic  and  the  free, 
The  beautiful,  the  brave  —  the  lords  of  earth  and 
sea. 

The  commonwealth  of  kings,  the  men  of  Rome ! 
And  even  since,  and  now,  fair  Italy ! 


116  THE     FLAME 

Thou  art  the  garden  of  the  world,  the  home 
Of  all  Art  yields,  and  Nature  can  decree; 
Even  in  thy  desert,  what  is  like  to  thee? 
Thy  very  weeds  are  beautiful,  thy  waste 
More  rich  than  other  clime's  fertility ; 
Thy  wreck  of  glory,  and  thy  ruin  graced 
With  an  immaculate  charm  which  cannot  be  de 
faced/  " 

Mario  paused,  but  Gwendolyn  did  not  speak.  Her 
eyes  were  closed;  she  had  been  drinking  in  not  only 
the  exquisite  poetry,  but  Mario's  rich  soft  voice, 
resonant  with  sincerity  and  strength.  How  different 
it  was  from  Jean  Marie's  voice !  There  was  nothing 
light,  debonair,  suave  in  Cavarodossi's  tone,  nor  did 
he  resort  to  any  stage  tricks  of  impressiveness.  His 
reading  thrilled  her. 

He  glanced  up,  and  as  she  did  not  move,  read  on : 

*' '  The  moon  is  up,  and  yet  it  is  not  night  — 
Sunset  divides  the  sky  with  her  —  a  sea 
Of  glory  streams  along  the  Alpine  height 
Of  blue  Friuli's  mountains ;  Heaven  is  free 
From  clouds,  but  of  all  colors  seems  to  be 
Melted  to  one  vast  Iris  of  the  West, 
Where  the  Day  j  oins  the  past  Eternity ; 
While,  on  the  other  hand,  meek  Diane's  crest 
Floats  through  the  azure  air  —  an  island  of  the 
blest! 

A  single  star  is  at  her  side,  and  reigns 
With  her  o'er  half  the  lovely  heaven ;  but  still 
Yon  sunny  sea  heaves  brightly,  and  remains 
Rolled  o'er  the  peak  of  the  far  Rhaetian  hill, 
As  Day  and  Night  contending  were,  until 


THE     FLAME  117 

Nature  reclaimed  her  order :  —  gently  flows 
The  deep-dyed  Brenta,  where  their  hues  instil 
The  odorous  purple  of  a  new-born  rose, 
Which  streams  upon  her  stream,  and  glassed  with 
in  it  glows, 

Filled  with  the  face  of  heaven,  which,  from  afar 
Comes  down  upon  the  waters ;  all  its  hues, 
From  the  rich  sunset  to  the  rising  star, 
Their  magical  variety  diffuse: 
And  now  they  change;  a  paler  shadow  strews 
Its  mantle  o'er  the  mountains;  parting  day 
Dies  like  the  dolphin,  whom  each  pang  imbues 
With  a  new  color  as  it  gasps  away, 
The  last  still  loveliest,  till  — 'tis  gone  —  and  all 
is  gray/  " 

He  paused,  and  there  was  an  impressive  silence. 

"  Now,  Signorina,  whose  plea  is  the  abler, —  the 
Prince  de  Bourbon's  or  Byron's?"  he  softly  asked. 

Gwendolyn  quickly  raised  her  head  and  looked  at 
him. 

"  Byron's,"  she  said. 

"  Then  Italy  has  conquered  you !  " 

She  hesitated  and  shook  her  head.  "  The  conquest 
may  not  be  complete." 

"  I,  a  Roman,  defy  France  to  subdue  you !  " 

The  light  in  his  eyes  told  ber  that  "  France  "  was 
Jean  Marie. 

"  It  will  necessitate  a  visit  to  both  countries  be 
fore  the  victor  can  be  declared,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  but  I  have  no  fear  of  Italy's  power.  Have 
you  seen  Monsieur  Feleki  lately?  " 

"  Not  since  the  night  you  met  him  here." 


118  THE     FLAME 

"  The  night  he  told  us  the  story  of  Diane  Godin?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  sorry  that  he  told  it.  Richard 
said  that  it  didn't  seem  to  set  well  on  the  Prince, 
and  I  thought  he  seemed  uneasy  and  annoyed.  Did 
you?  "  She  cast  an  anxious  glance  at  Mario. 

"  Yes.  To  what  did  your  brother  attribute  the 
cause  of  his  uneasiness  ?  " 

Gwendolyn  reddened  and  some  moments  passed 
before  she  said: 

"  Richard  thought  that  perhaps  at  some  time  he 
had  lived  with  the  students  in  the  Latin  Quarter, — 
for  amusement,  of  course,"  she  quickly  added,  and 
was  annoyed  because  she  had  repeated  a  part  of 
Richard's  accusations. 

"  That  was  exactly  my  opinion,  Signorina." 
Mario's  tone  was  so  serious  and  full  of  meaning,  that 
Gwendolyn  paled  and  her  trembling  hands  tightened 
over  the  arms  of  her  chair. 

The  butler  came  down  the  path,  followed  by  Jean 
Marie.  Cavarodossi  noticed  that  the  Prince  was  es 
corted  into  the  garden  without  his  card  being  first 
presented  to  Gwendolyn.  It  was  evidently  under 
stood  that  he  was  always  welcome. 

Jean  Marie  glanced  sharply  from  Gwendolyn  to 
Mario.  He  saw  her  pallor  and  he  thought  that  she 
did  not  greet  him  with  her  accustomed  cordiality. 
Had  Mario  told  her  of  Camille?  Had  Cavarodossi 
learned  that  Camille  was  Diane  Godin?  For  a  mo 
ment  the  Prince  was  staggered,  but  he  quickly  re 
gained  his  debonair  courtesy,  and  offering  Gwendolyn 
the  large  red  rose  he  held,  said  with  his  most  charm 
ing  air: 


THE     FLAME  119 

"  I  have  brought  you  but  one  rose  to-day,  Made 
moiselle,  that  you  may  study  it  and  see  how  greatly 
you  resemble  it  in  its  fair  perfection."  He  lightly 
pressed  her  fingers  as  he  gave  her  the  rose,  and  as  she 
looked  into  his  mild,  admiring  eyes,  the  color  slowly 
returned  to  her  cheeks  and  she  smiled. 

But  Mario  believed  that  when  she  would  be  alone 
his  words  would  return  to  her  and  that  the  first  seed 
of  distrust  had  been  sown  in  her  heart. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  day  after  Camille's  meeting  with  Janos,  she 
was  moody,  irritable,  and  cold  to  Jean  Marie. 
He  tried  to  please  her,  amuse  her,  but  she  would  not 
be  coaxed  into  good  humor.  He  stayed  with  her 
until  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  he  left  to  call  on 
Gwendolyn,  but  his  finding  Cavarodossi  there  made 
the  call  most  disagreeable.  Richard  arrived  with 
Janos  and  asked  them  all  to  remain  for  dinner,  but 
Jean  Marie  declined  on  the  plea  of  an  engagement, 
and,  leaving  the  field  to  his  rival  and  the  man  he 
feared,  returned  to  spend  an  uncomfortable  evening 
with  Camille.  She  was  thoughtful,,  petulant,  des 
perate  by  turns,  and  Jean  Marie  realized  more  than 
ever  the  uncertain  ground  upon  which  he  was  stand 
ing.  One  foot  already  had  sunk  into  quicksand  and 
the  other  was  slowly  slipping.  Camille's  meeting 
with  Janos  had  made  her  more  dangerous  than  be 
fore,  because  it  had  aroused  all  the  recklessness  in 
her  nature,  and  Jean  Marie  knew  that  he  must  begin 
again  to  win  her.  She  complained,  and  wanted  a 
change  of  air  and  scene.  It  was  not  warm  enough 
in  San  Francisco,  and  the  wind  blew  too  briskly. 
To  please  her,  the  Prince  suggested  that  on  the  fol 
lowing  day  they  take  a  sail  across  the  bay  and  go 
to  a  pretty  resort  near  San  Rafael  where  they  could 
be  served  an  excellent  Italian  dinner.  Camille 

120 


THE     FLAME  121 

agreed,  and  it  was  decided  upon  that  they  would 
start  in  the  morning  and  tour  San  Rafael  and  the 
surrounding  country  in  a  motor-car  before  going 
to  their  noon  dinner.  Jean  Marie  would  ask  Dubois 
to  accompany  them.  When  the  Prince  left  Camille's 
apartment,  he  was  more  at  ease,  and  believed  that 
their  trip  the  next  day  would  put  her  in  a  cheerful 
state  of  mind. 

When  Camilla  was  alone,  she  sat  still  for  a  long 
while,  looking  out  before  her,  and  only  the  changing 
expression  in  her  eyes  told  of  the  thoughts  and  pic 
tures  that  were  passing  rapidly  through  her  mind. 
Presently  her  lips  moved,  but  they  formed  only  one 
word,  "  Janos  !  "  Her  muscles  slowly  tightened,  and 
suddenly,  with  a  bound,  she  sprang  from  her  chair 
and  stood  rigid  with  her  hands  clasped  tightly 
over  her  breast,  then  gradually  her  muscles  relaxed 
and  a  quiver  ran  through  her  body.  She  went  to 
the  piano,  and  let  her  hands  stray  over  the  keys, 
improvising  a  strange,  minor  strain ;  but  presently 
she  began  a  well-remembered  melody.  It  was  one 
of  the  favorite  songs  that  she  used  to  sing  in  the 
Latin  Quarter,  with  Feleki's  accompaniment  on  the 
violin.  She  sang  several  songs  that  had  been  dear 
to  them,  but  before  she  finished  the  last,  her  voice 
broke  with  a  tearless  sob. 

That  Janos  was  lost  to  her,  she  knew  in  her  inmost 
heart,  but  the  reckless  desperation  in  her  character, 
her  determination  to  surmount  all  obstacles  and 
break  all  oppositions,  and  the  intensity  of  her  love 
for  him,  made  her  hope  and  battle  against  the  inev 
itable.  She  would  have  been  Janos'  wife  now  had  it 


122  THE     FLAME 

not  been  for  Jean  Marie,  and  a  dangerous  hatred 
for  the  Prince  rose  in  her  heart.  It  was  he  who  had 
made  her  unworthy  of  Janos ;  it  was  he  who  had  en 
ticed  her,  tempted  her  away  from  the  one  man  she  truly 
loved,  and  her  blood  burned  with  hatred  and  revenge. 
Jean  Marie  had  not  loved  her,  he  had  been  proud 
only  of  her  beauty  and  of  her  voice  and  had  tricked 
and  deceived  her  into  believing  that  it  was  love.  She 
hated  him!  Reprisal  was  at  hand.  If  he  were  try 
ing  to  win  Miss  Rolfe,  and  Camille  felt  positive  that 
he  was,  she  had  it  in  her  power  to  prevent  him.  He 
had  taken  her  from  the  Latin  Quarter  as  his  deluded 
slave ;  she  would  make  him  return  to  Paris,  her  ruined, 
dishonored  vassal. 

All  night,  as  she  lay  in  her  bed,  that  thought  was 
beating  through  her  brain. 

In  the  morning,  Jean  Marie  arrived  before  Dubois. 
As  Camille  came  from  her  bedroom,  he  was  standing 
before  a  picture  and  did  not  see  her.  The  hatred 
in  her  heart  became  almost  repulsion,  and  she  shrank 
back,  feeling  that  she  never  again  could  touch  him; 
then,  with  a  sudden  force,  she  darted  forward,  and 
throwing  her  arms  about  him,  pressed  an  ardent  kiss 
upon  his  lips. 

"  Camille!"  he  exclaimed  in  a  joyful  tone,  clasp 
ing  her  in  a  close  embrace.  "  You  do  love  me !  I 
feared  that  your  affection  was  cooling." 

"Why  should  it,  Jean?     You  haven't  changed." 

He  laughed  lightly.  "  That  is  true,  dear  heart, 
but  sometimes  our  feelings  change." 

"  Yes."  She  turned  away,  that  he  might  not  see 
the  light  flickering  in  her  eyes. 


THE     FLAME  123 

"  You  are  radiant  this  morning.  Did  you  have 
pleasant  dreams?  " 

She  nodded  and  carelessly  smiled. 

Dubois  arrived,  beaming  and  jovial. 

"  Ah,  Mademoiselle  is  magnificent  in  her  white 
gown  and  blue  automobile  veil,  but  Mademoiselle  is 
magnificent  in  everything.  Nature  has  showered  all 
her  gifts  upon  you." 

"  You  would  have  me  believe  that  I  am  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  the  world."  Camille  playfully 
struck  him  under  the  chin  with  a  pink  carnation. 

Dubois  was  visibly  flustered  at  her  familiarity  and 
cast  a  sly  glance  at  Jean  Marie,  fearing  that  his 
jealousy  might  be  aroused,  but  the  Prince  was  happy 
and  smiling,  so  Dubois  beamed  still  more. 

Jean  Marie  glanced  at  his  jeweled  watch.  "We 
had  better  be  going,"  he  said,  "  or  we'll  lose  the 
boat." 

As  they  went  down  the  street  for  a  car,  Dubois 
tripped  gaily  at  Camille's  side,  feeling  his  impor 
tance  and  the  privilege  of  being  the  escort  of  so  rare 
a  beauty.  Sailing  across  the  bay,  he  was  still  more 
flustered,  because  Camille  was  gazed  at  and  com 
mented  upon  by  every  passenger.  Jean  Marie  in  his 
pearl-gray  suit,  panama  hat  and  slender,  gold-crooked 
cane  also  attracted  attention,  because  he  showed  his 
aristocratic  distinction.  Thero  was  a  dainty  court 
esy  and  an  innate  refinement  about  the  Prince  that 
never  failed  to  excite  notice,  and  Dubois  was  wafted 
to  a  state  of  extravagant  joy.  His  little  round  eyes 
were  dancing  with  delight  and  his  affability  was  in 
dulged  to  the  extreme. 


124  THE     FLAME 

When  they  reached  the  station  at  San  Rafael,  an 
automobile  was  awaiting  them.  They  motored 
around  the  town  over  the  various  roads  abounding 
with  picturesque  rustic  scenery,  and  shortly  after 
the  noon  hour  arrived  at  Pastori's  Villa,  a  popular 
and  beautiful  resort  at  Fairfax,  a  short  distance  from 
San  Rafael. 

Camille  was  charmed  with  the  beauty  of  the  place, 
and  in  the  sweet,  mesmerizing  air,  the  revenge  and 
hatred  that  had  been  rife  in  her  heart,  calmed,  and 
she  rejoiced  in  the  loveliness  of  her  surroundings. 
She  delighted  in  the  cool,  murmuring  ravine  spanned 
by  a  rustic  bridge,  in  the  wealth  of  radiant  flowers 
growing  round  the  villa,  and  she  was  happy  as  she 
had  not  believed  she  could  be  that  day.  She  felt 
a  return  of  the  youth  and  joy  fulness  that  had  been 
one  of  her  greatest  charms  as  a  girl,  and  she  wanted 
to  express  her  gaiety  in  a  burst  of  song.  There  was 
no  one  present  but  Jean  Marie,  Dubois,  and  the 
hostess,  and  she  let  her  voice  flow  out  with  a  rich 
abandonment  and  volume  that  surprised  even  herself. 
While  their  dinner  was  being  prepared,  she  played 
some  brilliant  melodies  on  the  piano,  standing  on  the 
wide  veranda  of  the  house.  Jean  Marie  sat  near, 
studying  her  vivacity  and  dashing  charm,  and  he  ex 
perienced  a  new  thrill  in  her  presence  and  in  the 
fervid  love  he  believed  she  felt  for  him.  Gwendolyn 
did  not  exist  during  these  intoxicating  moments. 
The  spell  of  his  first  infatuation  for  Camille  was 
tingling  through  his  veins  with  renewed  ardor.  He 
believed  that  he  had  never  cared  for  her  as  now. 

Dubois  saw  Jean  Marie's  intoxication,  and  he  ap- 


THE     FLAME  125 

plauded  and  praised  Camilla,  that  the  flame  in  the 
Prince's  eyes  might  burn  brighter. 

Presently  she  stopped  playing  and  began  looking 
round  the  grounds.  She  noticed  a  platform  built 
high  above  the  ground,  in  a  large  tree,  where  dinner 
could  be  served,  and  suggested  that  they  eat  up 
there;  so  they  climbed  up  the  steps  and  seated  them 
selves  round  the  table.  The  hostess  told  them  that 
when  Pietro  Mascagni  was  in  San  Francisco  he  vis 
ited  her  villa  and  ate  his  dinner  up  in  this  tree  at 
this  very  same  table.  Thereupon,  with  a  stirring 
toast,  they  drank  to  the  composer's  health,  and  were 
in  such  genial  spirits  that  they  were  ready  to  toast 
anyone  whose  name  might  be  mentioned. 

"  This  is  a  memorable  day,"  said  Dubois,  resting 
his  pudgy  hands  on  the  edge  of  the  table,  and  glan 
cing  from  Camille  to  Jean  Marie.  "  It  is  one  we'll 
never  forget." 

"  So  you  are  in  the  habit  of  forgetting  the  hours 
you  spend  with  me !  "  exclaimed  Camille.  "  I  always 
have  said  that  you  are  an  arch  flatterer." 

"  You  misunderstand  me,  divine  Mademoiselle." 
Dubois  quickly  raised  a  protesting  hand.  "  Every 
hour  I  am  with  you  is  remembered,  but  it  is 
inevitable  that  some  hours  must  be  sweeter  than 
others." 

Camille  laughed  and  shook  her  finger  at  him. 

"  You  are  a  peerless  cavalier,  Dubois,"  said  Jean 
Marie,  emptying  a  glass  of  wine  and  enjoying  his 
dinner.  "  You  are  steeped  in  sweet  words." 

"  It  is  Mademoiselle  who  inspires  them.  She  is  a 
true  diva." 


126  THE     FLAME 

"  Do  you  really  think  me  a  goddess  ?  "  Camille 
flashed  him  a  vanquishing  glance. 

"  Yes,  and  as  graceful,  fleet  and  beautiful  as 
Diana,  goddess  of  the  moon,  of  music,  dancing  and 
the  chase.  You  are  so  lithe  and  sprightly  that  you 
should  be  called  Diana." 

The  youthful  joy  in  Camille's  eyes  shriveled  and 
died,  and  the  artful  gleam  of  the  corrupt  woman  re 
appeared.  Her  voice  had  the  careless  wave  of  a 
popular  cafe  chanson  when  she  said : 

"  Yes,  I  love  the  name.  I  had  rather  be  Diana 
than  anyone  else." 

A  stiff  smile  curved  Jean  Marie's  lips. 

"  Then  let  me  christen  you."  Dubois  daintily 
dipped  his  finger-tips  into  his  glass  and  snapped  a 
drop  of  wine  on  her  hair. 

Camille  caught  his  fingers  and  pressed  them. 

"  I  don't  need  to  be  christened  again."  She 
laughed  unsteadily. 

"  Isn't  this  a  charming  place !  "  Dubois  said,  lean 
ing  back  in  his  chair  and  looking  round.  "  There 
are  many  beautiful  spots  in  California.  It  is,  in 
deed,  a  golden  country." 

"  I  wish  I  could  find  a  little  of  the  gold."  Ca 
mille's  eyes  rested  on  Dubois.  "  I  am  going  to  re 
mind  vou  of  the  promise  you  made  to  find  me  posi 
tions  to  sing  in  private  homes.  My  money  will  soon 
be  exhausted  if  I  don't  begin  work  soon.  This  life 
as  a  lady  of  leisure  is  more  agreeable  than  profita 
ble." 

"  I  must  apologize  for  any  negligence,"  said  Du 
bois.  "  I  confess  that  I  haven't  yet  spoken  to  any- 


THE     FLAME  127 

one  about  you,  and  I  saw  Mr.  Rolfe  this  morning, 
too !  " 

Camille  glanced  at  Jean  Marie,  who  continued  eat 
ing  without  looking  up.  A  faint  smile  crossed  her 
lips. 

"  That  would  be  a  splendid  home  in  which  to  make 
my  debut,  but  I  am  not  particular;  any  rich  family 
will  do  to  introduce  me,  and  I  know  that  you  are  ac 
quainted  with  many  influential  people." 

Dubois  sat  pompously  erect.  "  You  may  be  sure, 
Mademoiselle,  that  I  will  use  whatever  influence  I 
have.  Oh,  by  the  way!  Has  Your  Highness  heard 
the  news  ?  " 

"  I  couldn't  say.  There  is  a  quantity  of  news  to 
hear."  A  tinge  of  sarcasm  was  in  Jean  Marie's 
tone,  but  Dubois  was  too  unsuspecting  to  perceive 
it.  He  always  delighted  in  repeating  some  startling 
report. 

"  Cavarodossi  has  been  paying  marked  attention 
to  Miss  Rolfe  for  some  time,  and  I  heard  last  night 
that  she  appears  to  favor  him  and  that  he  has  her 
brother's  approval." 

"Miss  Rolfe  in  love  with  Cavarodossi?  This  is, 
indeed,  news  to  me !  " 

The  sneering  sarcasm  in  Jean  Marie's  voice  was 
now  so  apparent  that  Dubois  could  not  mistake  it, 
and  he  glanced  up  with  uneasiness.  He  had  not 
heard  that  the  Prince  was  paying  court  to  her,  and 
he  could  not  understand  Jean  Marie's  displeasure. 

"  Of  course  it  is  only  rumor,"  he  hastened  to  say. 

Jean  Marie  caught  Camille's  sharp,  sidelong 
glance,  and  he  returned  with  assumed  indifference : 


128  T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E 

"  Perhaps  it  is  true.  Cavarodossi  is  a  good  fel 
low.  She  could  do  much  worse." 

Camille  laughed  lightly.  "  She  should  offer  her 
hand  with  the  fifty  millions  in  it  to  Your  Highness. 
That  wouldn't  be  bad." 

Jean  Marie  coldly  frowned. 

"  I  am  not  in  need  of  money." 

"No?  I  am  glad  to  hear  it!"  The  glance  Ca 
mille  shot  him  was  full  of  insolent  meaning,  and 
Jean  Marie's  lips  tightened  and  hot  blood  rose  to  his 
cheeks. 

Dubois  realized  that  he  had  made  a  mistake,  and 
during  the  remainder  of  the  dinner  exerted  himself 
to  keep  up  the  conversation  that  was  rather  flagging 
than  brilliant. 

After  the  meal  was  finished,  they  came  down  from 
the  tree  and  walked  round  the  grounds.  Jean  Marie 
had  regained  his  good  humor,  and  Camille  began  to 
jest  with  Dubois. 

"  Suppose  we  take  the  automobile  and  visit  the 
country  around,  instead  of  remaining  here  all  the 
afternoon,"  the  Prince  suggested.  "  There  are  many 
more  beautiful  points  to  see." 

"  Yes,  let  us  go,"  agreed  Camille.  "  We  have 
seen  everything  here."  She  went  back  to  the  ve 
randa  to  get  her  coat  and  veil,  and  the  two  men  fol 
lowed  her. 

Jean  Marie  lit  a  cigarette,  and  after  offering  his 
match  to  Dubois,  turned  and  glanced  at  Camille. 
Her  face  was  white  and  her  eyes  were  glittering  like 
two  burning  stars  as  they  were  fastened  on  the  path 
leading  from  the  entrance  of  the  grounds. 


THE     FLAME  129 

Jean  Marie  swung  round  and  caught  his  breath. 
Coming  up  the  path  were  Gwendolyn,  Miss  Morris, 
Feleki  and  Cavarodossi.  The  Prince  was  trapped 
without  a  way  of  escape. 

Dubois  gasped  a  faint,  "  Oh !  " 

"  There  is  the  Prince  de  Bourbon  1 "  Gwendolyn 
gaily  exclaimed.  He  was  standing  in  front  of  Ca- 
mille  and  at  first  she  barely  noticed  the  singer,  but 
Cavarodossi  and  Feleki  saw  her  and  abruptly  halted. 
They  were  now  no  more  than  twenty  feet  from  the 
veranda.  Neither  Jean  Marie  nor  Dubois  moved. 

"  Let  us  go  in  here,"  said  Feleki  in  a  muffled  tone 
of  suppressed  excitement.  He  took  Gwendolyn  by 
the  arm  and  started  towards  one  of  the  tented  din 
ing-rooms  above  the  ravine. 

The  look  of  astonishment,  annoyance,  wonder  that 
flashed  into  Gwendolyn's  face,  told  Jean  Marie  that 
he  must  make  a  bold  attempt  to  straighten  the  situa 
tion,  or  Gwendolyn  was  lost  to  him. 

"  This  is  a  surprise  and  a  pleasure ! "  he  said, 
stepping  lightly  off  the  veranda  and  going  towards 
them  followed  by  Dubois*  who  wore  a  rather  ghastly 
smile. 

Gwendolyn's  eyes  were  fixed  on  Camille.  She  did 
not  understand  this  type  of  woman,  but  she  knew  that 
something  wras  wrong. 

Camille  stood  still  with  her  arms  half  raised,  hold 
ing  her  long  blue  veil  as  though  she  had  been  sud 
denly  transfixed  when  in  the  act  of  tossing  the  veil 
over  her  hat.  Her  head  was  slightly  thrown  back, 
her  drooping  lashes  partly  shading  her  glowing  eyes, 
and  her  red,  sensuous  lips  were  curved  in  a  smile  that 


130  THE     FLAME 

was  amused,  triumphant,  sarcastic.  As  Jean  Marie 
left  her,  she  slowly  turned  from  Gwendolyn.  Her 
eyes  followed  the  Prince,  and  the  look  of  ownership 
that  flared  into  them  was  more  expressive  than  words. 

Jean  Marie  was  at  Gwendolyn's  side.  She  took 
his  extended  hand,  but  did  not  speak.  Her  voice 
froze  on  her  lips. 

"  It  is  odd  that  we  all  should  have  come  to  the 
same  place  for  an  outing,"  said  Dubois,  trying  unsuc 
cessfully  to  throw  a  light  touch  into  his  tone.  He 
was  fidgety  and  most  uncomfortable. 

66  It  is  an  unexpected  meeting,"  said  Cavarodossi. 
"  Are  you  leaving?  " 

"  Yes,  we  have  just  finished  dinner,"  answered  Jean 
Marie.  "  You  should  dine  up  in  that  tree.  It  is  a 
most  romantic  and  lovely  spot." 

Gwendolyn  glanced  from  Camille  to  Jean  Marie. 
What  was  this  woman  that  he  did  not  introduce  her? 
Who  was  she,  that  she  dared  look  at  him  with  such 
indisputable  proprietorship?  Gwendolyn  was  trem 
bling  with  nervous  excitement.  Camille's  eyes  lashed 
her,  and  she  shrank  from  them.  Turning  to  Cavaro 
dossi,  she  rested  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Let  us  go  and  sit  down  in  the  shade,"  she  said, 
while  the  others  were  speaking.  "  I  am  tired  and 
warm." 

They  were  in  the  shade  already.  Cavarodossi 
gave  her  a  quick  glance. 

"  You  must  be  hungry.  I  am."  He  was  anxious 
to  move  away,  because  he  feared  the  look  that  was 
rising  in  Feleki's  eyes. 

"  Don't  let  us  detain  you,"  said  Jean  Marie  with 


THE     FLAME  131 

a  courtly  bow.  "  We'll  say  good-by."  He  shook 
hands  again  with  Gwendolyn  and  Miss  Morris,  and 
he  and  Dubois  turned  to  the  veranda. 

The  hostess  of  the  villa  appeared  and  greeted  Mario 
and  his  friends.  Jean  Marie  took  this  occasion  to 
leave. 

Camille  was  at  the  Prince's  side,  walking  with  a 
regal  air.  She  did  not  once  look  at  Janos,  but  as 
she  passed  the  others,  she  gave  Gwendolyn  a  sharp 
glance  and  her  eyes  were  brilliant  and  challenging. 

"  I  have  forgotten  my  parasol,"  she  said,  sweetly. 
"  It  is  on  the  veranda.  Will  you  get  it,  Jean  ?  " 

Cavarodossi  had  Gwendolyn's  arm,  and  he  felt  her 
muscles  tighten  with  a  jerk  as  the  woman  familiarily 
called  the  Prince  by  his  Christian  name. 

Jean  Marie,  red  and  angry,  went  back.  As  he  re 
turned,  and  passed  Gwendolyn,  he  bowed,  but  he 
could  not  force  a  smile. 

"  Who  is  that  woman  ?  "  kept  hammering  through 
Gwendolyn's  mind.  "  Who  is  she,  that  he  will  not 
introduce  her?  "  She  turned  on  Cavarodossi  with 
desperate  eyes,  and  asked,  "  Who  is  she?  " 

But  Mario,  apparently  not  hearing,  began  to  tell 
the  hostess  of  several  Italian  dishes  that  he  especially 
wished. 


CHAPTER  X 

afternoon  at  Pastori's  was  long  and  disa- 
A  greeable  for  Gwendolyn.  Camille's  glowing, 
commanding  beauty  was  ever  present  in  her  mind. 
The  look  of  indisputable  ownership  that  Camille  had 
given  the  Prince  and  the  carelessly  sweet  way  in 
which  she  had  called  him,  "  Jean,"  was  a  thorn  that 
did  not  cease  aggravating  Gwendolyn's  jealousy  and 
mistrust.  She  failed  in  her  attempt  to  appear  light- 
hearted,  that  the  others  might  not  understand  her 
feelings.  Cavarodossi  watched  her  almost  inces 
santly,  but  the  sympathy  he  felt  was  not  visible  in  his 
eyes.  He  was  glad  of  this  meeting,  because  he  knew 
it  would  stimulate  her  suspicion  of  Jean  Marie. 

Gwendolyn  saw  that  Feleki  was  greatly  perturbed 
by  this  meeting,  and  she  was  puzzled.  He  had  no 
obvious  reason  to  be  affected  by  Jean  Marie's  pres 
ence.  Did  Janos  know  this  woman?  If  so,  why 
should  he  be  stirred?  There  was  some  mystery  she 
could  not  fathom.  She  wished  the  afternoon  would 
end,  and  she  also  wished  that  Miss  Morris  was  not 
there.  She  wanted  to  question  Feleki,  but  he  kept 
close  to  her  friend.  Did  he  suspect? 

Gwendolyn  decided  that  she  would  invite  Janos 
to  go  home  with  her  and  let  Cavarodossi  be  Miss 
Morris's  escort,  but  in  this  she  was  baffled.  Feleki 

said  Miss  Morris  had  told  him  of  a  violin  that  one 

132 


THE     FLAME  133 

of  her  ancestors  had  made  and  he  was  interested  in 
it  and  was  going  home  with  her  to  see  it.  Was  his 
interest  real,  or  had  he  again  suspected  Gwendolyn's 
intention  ? 

She  had  a  vague  fear  of  something,  but  she  did  not 
know  of  what.  A  new  feeling  rose  in  her  heart  for 
Cavarodossi, —  a  feeling  that  he  would  help  her  and 
protect  her  from  this  unknown  fear.  She  felt  safe 
with  him,  knowing  that  his  honesty  could  be  de 
pended  upon.  She  never  would  meet  him  in  com 
pany  with  a  woman  like  the  one  with  Jean  Marie,  and 
such  a  woman  never  would  take  the  liberty  of  calling 
Cavarodossi  by  his  Christian  name  in  such  a  caress 
ing,  familiar  tone.  Of  this  she  was  certain. 

While  they  were  crossing  the  bay  on  their  return 
to  San  Francisco,  Feleki  conversed  animatedly  with 
Miss  Morris,  but  Gwendolyn  was  quiet  and  thought 
ful.  „  Once,  after  she  had  been  silent  a  long  while,  she 
suddenly  laid  a  trembling  hand  on  Cavarodossi's  arm 
and  looked  up  into  his  face  with  appealing  eyes  in 
which  tears  slowly  gathered.  Mario  did  not  touch 
her  hand,  but  said  with  an  encouraging  smile  that  he 
loved  San  Francisco  Bay  next  to  the  Bay  of  Naples. 
Gwendolyn  mastered  her  tears  and  was  grateful  that 
he  did  not  or  would  not  understand.  She  quickly 
answered  in  a  light  but  unnatural  tone,  and  Cavaro 
dossi  spoke  on  every  subject  that  he  thought  might 
calm  her  turbulent  feelings. 

"  You  will  come  home  with  me  and  remain  for 
dinner,  won't  you?  "  she  asked  him,  as  they  were 
leaving  the  boat. 

"  Yes,  thank  you." 


THE     FLAME 

"  You  never  refuse  to  come  on  the  plea  of  an  en 
gagement,"  Gwendolyn  said  half  to  herself,  thinking 
of  Jean  Marie's  declination  to  remain  to  dinner  the 
night  before. 

"  No,  I  am  always  at  liberty  when  you  wish  me." 

There  was  no  love  in  his  voice ;  it  was  only  courtesy 
and  friendship,  but  it  rang  with  a  truth  that  was 
sweet  to  hear. 

Richard  was  at  home  when  they  arrived,  and  he 
greeted  Mario  with  a  hearty  handshake,  saying: 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come.  A  man  will  be  here 
to-night  to  see  me  on  business,  and  now  Gwendolyn 
won't  be  left  alone." 

Mario  rested  grateful  eyes  on  him.  "  I  sincerely 
appreciate  your  friendship,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  like  you,  and  so  does  my  sister,  but,  hang 
it  all,  that  Prince  de  Bourbon —  Ah,  Gwendolyn, 
you  look  rosy  and  charming  after  your  trip  across 
the  bay.  You  must  take  her  again,  Cavarodossi." 

Gwendolyn  came  into  the  room,  smiling  and  ap 
parently  happy,  because  she  dared  not  show  her  feel 
ings  in  the  presence  of  her  keen  brother. 

During  dinner  Richard  was  attentive  to  Cavaro 
dossi  and  in  every  way  showed  Gwendolyn  the  differ 
ence  in  his  feeling  for  him  and  Jean  Marie.  They 
took  their  black  coffee  in  the  conservatory.  Soon 
afterward  the  man  arrived  to  see  Richard,  and  Gwen 
dolyn  was  left  alone  with  Mario.  He  talked  of  Italy, 
flowers,  the  opera,  of  everything  but  their  trip  to 
Pastori's  and  the  meeting  with  Jean  Marie.  But  at 
the  first  lull  in  the  conversation,  she  said,  resting  her 
troubled,  innocent  eyes  on  him: 


THE     FLAME  135 

"  What  kind  of  a  woman  was  that  with  the  Prince 
de  Bourbon  to-day?  " 

He  answered  without  hesitation:  "  She  is  a  cafe 
singer  from  Paris." 

Gwendolyn  caught  a  quick  breath.  "  A  cafe 
singer?  " 

He  nodded. 

"  Do  you  know  her  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Monsieur  Dubois  introduced  me." 

"  Then  she  is  his  friend  and  not  the  Prince's  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say."  Cavarodossi  rose  and  went  to 
one  of  the  long  windows  and  stood  looking  out  into 
the  dark. 

The  relieved  look  that  had  come  into  Gwendolyn's 
eyes  died  as  she  watched  him,  and  a  modest  blush  rose 
to  her  cheek  when  she  hesitatingly  asked : 

"  Is  she  —  is  she  a  good  woman  ?  " 

Mario  slowly  turned  towards  her.  "  I  cannot 
say,"  he  repeated. 

"  You  didn't  speak  to  her." 

"  She  didn't  speak  to  me." 

Gwendolyn  hesitated.  "  Is  she  a  woman  you  would 
take  for  a  friend?  " 

"  No,"  after  a  hesitation. 

The  color  faded  from  her  face.  "  Be  frank  with 
me !  "  she  pleaded.  "  What  is  the  woman  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  proof  against  her,  Signorina.  There 
are  many  good  women  whom  the  world  calls  bad." 

Gwendolyn  did  not  answer,  but  presently  she 
asked : 

"  Does  Monsieur  Feleki  know  her  ?  He  seemed 
nervous  after  our  meeting  with  them." 


136  THE     FLAME 

"  I  cannot  answer  for  him.     Pardon  me." 

"  There  is  something  you  will  not  tell."  Her  voice 
trembled. 

Mario  was  silent  a  moment,  then  said  feelingly: 

"  It  would  be  better  for  you  to  speak  to  the  Prince 
de  Bourbon.  He  can  answer  many  questions  that  I 
cannot." 

"  Forgive  me.  I  should  not  have  questioned  you 
at  all,  but  I  knew  that  you  would  tell  me  the  truth 
concerning  this  woman." 

The  faith  in  her  tone  was  heavenly  music  to  Cavaro- 
dossi  and  he  took  a  quick  step  towards  her,  then 
halted. 

"  I  cannot  thank  you  enough  for  your  trust  in 
me,"  he  said  with  suppressed  feeling.  "  If  you  are 
not  satisfied  with  the  Prince  de  Bourbon's  explana 
tion,  I  beg  of  you  to  let  me  know." 

Gwendolyn  looked  up  into  his  face  with  frightened 
eyes. 

"  Then  there  is  more  than  you  are  willing  to 
tell ! " 

He  did  not  answer,  because  Richard  entered. 

"  I  rid  myself  of  the  man  quicker  than  I  ex 
pected,"  he  said  gaily.  "  Now,  come  into  the  music- 
room,  Mario,  and  sing  me  an  operatic  aria  so  that  I 
shall  forget  this  humdrum  business." 

Cavarodossi  graciously  complied,  but  he  went  home 
early,  because  he  knew  that  Gwendolyn  preferred  to 
be  alone  with  her  trouble.  His  heart  ached  for  her, 
yet  he  was  happy  in  the  belief  that  this  would  mean 
the  end  of  Jean  Marie's  supremacy.  But  would 
Gwendolyn  in  her  youth  and  innocence  be  tricked  and 


THE     FLAME  137 

won   again   by   this    experienced,    sweet-tongued   de 
ceiver? 

On  the  following  day,  early  in  the  afternoon,  Jean 
Marie  sauntered  with  a  fagging  gait  to  Gwendolyn's 
home.  He  had  rather  been  going  to  any  other  place 
on  earth,  but  he  knew  that  prompt  action  was  his 
only  hope.  He  had  invented  several  stories  to  re 
late  in  his  defense,  but  the  nearer  he  drew  to  the  RolfV 
home,  the  more  impossible  they  seemed.  He  won 
dered  if  Feleld  or  Cavarodossi  had  made  an  expla 
nation  for  him.  He  would  soon  know,  for  if  either 
had,  Gwendolyn  would  refuse  to  see  him.  He  tried 
to  forget  his  precarious  position  and  force  his 
thoughts  to  dwell  upon  pleasant  things,  that  he  might 
be  at  ease  and  certain  of  himself  when  he  would 
meet  Gwendolyn,  but  harmony  was  far  from  him. 
He  had  had  a  stormy  scene  with  Camille  in  which  she 
had  been  victorious,  because  Jean  Marie  was  abso 
lutely  within  her  power,  and  she  had  pointedly  re 
minded  him  of  it.  As  he  went  slowly  up  the  steps 
of  the  Rolfe  home,  he  had  a  presentiment  that  all 
was  over  between  Gwendolyn  and  himself,  but  the 
thought  of  her  fifty  million  dollars  made  his  blood 
surge  through  him  with  the  determination  to  win  her 
again.  He  never  could  return  to  Paris  without 
money,  and  this  was  the  largest  fortune  within  his 
reach. 

The  butler  ushered  him  into  the  music-room,  where 
Gwendolyn  was  practicing  on  the  piano. 

She  rose  and  stood  rigid,  looking  him  full  in  the 
eyes. 


138  THE     FLAME 

He  was  wise  enough  to  understand  that  his  usual 
complimentary  greeting  would  ruffle  her  still  more, 
so  he  went  forward  with  a  smile  and  a  courtly  bow. 

"  I  am  glad  that  I  have  found  you,"  he  simply 
said.  "  I  felt  all  the  way  here  that  you  were  not  at 
home." 

Gwendolyn  still  looked  at  him  as  though  she  were 
reading  his  inmost  thoughts.  The  soft  violet  color 
ing  seemed  to  have  faded  from  her  mottled  eyes,  leav 
ing  only  the  cold  gray. 

"  You  are  angry  with  me,"  he  said,  after  a  slight 
pause,  "  and  not  without  reason.  I  regret  the  com 
pany  you  found  me  in  yesterday.  It  was  an  act  most 
unworthy  of  Monsieur  Dubois." 

Gwendolyn  raised  her  finely  curved  brows.  "  Why 
do  you  blame  him?  "  she  coldly  asked. 

"  Because  it  was  his  fault.  He  is  a  friend  of  the 
Frenchwoman's,  and  when  he  asked  me  to  go  to  Pas- 
tori's,  I  didn't  know  that  she  was  to  be  with  us." 

Gwendolyn  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  sat  again 
on  the  piano  stool,  and  Jean  Marie  took  a  chair  be 
side  her. 

"  She  is  Monsieur  Dubois's  friend,  not  yours  ?  " 
she  asked,  half  turning  her  head  away. 

Her  tone  had  softened  and  hope  rose  in  his  heart. 

"  Yes,"  he  quickly  said.  "  She  has  been  in  this 
city  but  two  or  three  weeks,  and  Dubois  introduced 
me  to  her." 

"  Have  you  met  her  many  times  ?  " 

"  No ;  perhaps  three  or  four." 

Gwendolyn  slowly  turned  back  to  him  and  her  eyes 
looked  into  his  very  steadily. 


T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E  139 

"  Then,  if  you  are  almost  strangers,  how  could  she 
take  the  liberty  of  calling  you  Jean  ?  " 

The  Prince  reddened.  What  had  Cavarodossi  told 
her?  What  had  Feleki  revealed?  He  was  in  a  des 
perate  situation  that  no  explanation  could  straighten. 
Her  eyes  were  resting  on  him  with  a  sort  of  painful 
challenge,  and  his  blood  began  to  beat  at  his  temples. 
He  must  have  her.  The  money  was  necessary  to 
him.  He  knew  that  his  next  words  would  seal  his 
fate.  From  the  look  she  gave  him,  he  understood 
that  she  did  not  believe  his  lies.  He  would  throw 
himself  upon  her  mercy,  her  generosity,  as  he  should 
have  done  at  first,  but  even  now  he  could  not  tell  her 
the  truth.  During  the  short  pause,  he  had  lowered 
his  eyes,  but  now  he  raised  them  full  of  well-feigned 
misery,  and  when  he  spoke,  his  voice  was  tremulous 
with  repentance  and  shame. 

"  Forgive  me  for  being  so  weak  and  cowardly  as 
not  to  have  told  you  the  truth.  No,  my  acquaint 
ance  with  this  woman  is  not  recent.  I  met  her  five 
years  ago  in  Paris," —  he  was  cautious  not  to  make 
the  years  coincide  with  Feleki's  story, — "  and  she  was 
then  what  she  is  now,  a  public  singer.  I  knew  that 
she  was  not  the  woman  with  whom  I  should  associate, 
but  I  was  led  on,  not  only  by  her  dashing  beauty  and 
her  fascination,  but  by  the  friends  with  whom  I  was 
intimate  who  knew  her.  •  They  were  wealthy,  idle, 
and  thought  it  an  honor  to  be  flattered  and  petted  by 
the  favorites  of  the  night  life.  They  were  vain,  not 
bad,  and,  believe  me,  neither  was  I.  My  father  had 
been  very  strict  with  me,  and  after  his  death,  I  felt 
the  wild  freedom  of  a  liberated  prisoner,  and  in- 


140  THE     FLAME 

dulged  in  many  absurd  frivolities  that  soon  lost  their 
glamour.  I  was  not  long  realizing  the  hollowness  of 
a  Bohemian  life.  My  uncle,  the  Due  de  Castelnau, 
is  an  estimable  man  and  always  has  been  my  dearest 
friend  and  adviser.  He  took  me  away  from  this  life 
and  made  me  see  the  nothingness  of  it,  before  it  was 
too  late.  I  never  loved  this  singer,  I  could  not,  for 
love  is  a  sacred  thing,  but  I  was  intoxicated  with  her 
brilliant  charms  and  she  knew  how  to  play  upon 
one's  vanity.  Our  acquaintance  was  only  a  foolish 
flirtation.  I  didn't  tell  you  this  at  first,  because  I 
was  ashamed  to  own  that  such  a  woman  ever  attracted 
me.  You  are  so  sweet  and  pure  that  I  feared  losing 
your  esteem.  Most  men  have  an  absurd  little  his 
tory  in  their  misguided  youth,  but  I  wanted  to  hide 
mine  from  you,  fearing  that  you  would  not  under 
stand  that  it  didn't  have  a  serious  effect  upon  me  nor 
leave  a  taint  on  my  life.  Can  you  forgive  me?  " 

The  fervid,  humble  appeal  in  his  voice  and  the 
pleading  anguish  in  his  eyes  beguiled  Gwendolyn, 
and  she  believed  that  he  was  sincere.  He  had  owned 
his  faults  as  she  thought  no  wicked  man  would ;  and 
was  it  not  natural  that  he  should  now  be  ashamed 
and  try  to  hide  his  folly  if  he  could?  Had  not  she 
many  Limes  in  her  simple  life  been  thrown  into  temp 
tation's  path,  but,  of  course,  in  a  very  different 
way?  How  great  must  be  the  evil  and  enticements 
following  a  man  in  Jean  Marie's  high  position  and 
one  with  his  gentle,  attractive  manner !  Yes,  she  was 
certain  as  she  looked  into  his  eyes  that  his  folly  had 
left  no  taint  upon  his  life.  The  magnetism  and  fas 
cination  of  his  presence  stole  over  her  like  a  soothing 


THE     FLAME  141 

drug.  The  shadow  of  a  smile  crossed  her  lips  as  she 
thought  of  the  fright  she  had  received.  Undoubt 
edly  Cavarodossi  knew  this  story,  but  did  he  believe 
her  too  simple,  too  bloodless,  to  understand  how 
such  a  glowing  woman  would  attract  a  man  carried 
away  with  the  impulses  of  liberated  youth? 

Jean  Marie,  with  a  throbbing  heart,  saw  the  light 
softening  in  her  face  and  he  knew  that  he  had  de 
ceived  her. 

"  Can  you  forgive  me !  "  he  repeated,  and  his  voice 
vibrated  with  emotion,  from  which  he  crushed  his  ex 
ultant  joy. 

"  Why  have  you  seen  her  here  ?  "  she  gently  re 
buked.  "  You  should  not  have  done  so." 

"  I  accidentally  met  her  one  day  with  Monsieur  Du- 
bois,  and,  as  she  did  not  betray  our  former  acquaint 
ance,  I  greeted  her  as  a  stranger  and  have  called  on 
her  three  times  at  Monsieur  Dubois's  invitation,  but 
only  when  he  was  present  and  Signer  Cavarodossi, 
upon  whom  I  did  not  wish  to  intrude. 
Here  again  I  was  foolish.  I  should  have  told  Dubois 
my  little  story  and  then  kept  away,  but  shame  held 
me  back.  I  didn't  want  him  to  know  that  I  ever 
had  been  weak  enough  to  let  this  woman  enthrall 
me." 

A  puzzled  look  came  over  Gwendolyn's  face.  How 
did  Cavarodossi  know,  and  why  had  he  called  upon 
this  singer  so  often?  What  had  there  been  in  his 
manner  towards  the  woman  that  had  made  Jean  Marie 
feel  himself  an  intruder? 

The  Prince,  with  quick  perception,  discerned  her 
perplexity  and  surmised  that  either  Feleki  or  Cav- 


142  THE     FLAME 

arodossi,  if  the  latter  had  learned  the  Prince's  his 
tory,  had  insinuated  some  mystery  to  Gwendolyn. 
He  did  not  wait  for  her  to  question  him,  but  promptly 
said,  with  a  faint  smile  of  self-disgust: 

"  I  have  been  wondering  if  the  woman  has  tricked 
me  and  told  my  little  story  to  Dubois.  It  would  be 
like  her.  She  delights  in  ridiculing  the  men  who 
have  slipped  away  from  her  enchantment."  Jean 
Marie  thoughtfully  paused  and  added  with  a  shrug: 
"  Well,  I  deserve  the  ridiculing.  *  As  ye  sow,  so 
shall  ye  reap.'  Surely  that  is  true." 

Gwendolyn's  expression  cleared.  Cavarodossi  must 
have  heard  of  the  flirtation  from  the  woman  and  no 
doubt  she  had  made  it  more  serious  than  it  really  had 
been.  She  felt  a  sudden  pride  that  Jean  Marie  had 
confided  to  her  what  he  would  not  disclose  to  the 
others. 

"  Am  I  forgiven,  Mademoiselle?  "  the  Prince  asked 
with  timid  humiliation,  but  without  giving  her  time  to 
answer,  he  dropped  on  his  knees  before  her  and  seiz 
ing  her  hand,  covered  it  with  impassioned  kisses. 
"  Gwendolyn,  listen  to  me,  I  beg !  I  am  kneeling  be 
fore  you  a  humble  penitent.  If  at  a  time  in  the  past 
my  life  was  not  blameless  as  it  should  have  been,  my 
heart  has  remained  untouched  by  an  evil  impulse.  I 
know  that  since  my  father's  death  I  have  been  selfish 
and  worthless,  my  only  desires  being  for  amusement. 
I  have  not  lived  to  ennoble  myself  and  benefit  others. 
It  did  not  suggest  itself  to  me  that  I  could  be  use 
ful.  Not  until  I  met  you  did  I  realize  the  worthless- 
ness  of  my  existence.  In  the  light  of  your  beautiful 
soul,  my  soul  has  expanded.  Every  glance  of  faith 


THE     FLAME  143 

and  trust  with  which  you  have  favored  me  has  awak 
ened  a  new  virtue  in  my  heart.  The  glory  of  your 
purity  and  nobleness  has  shed  upon  me  a  helpful 
radiance  that  will  forever  be  the  guiding  inspiration 
of  my  life.  I  love  you !  I  love  you !  " 

He  bowed  in  reverence.  He  knew  that  he  had  used 
the  strongest  plea  a  man  can  use  to  a  woman, — 
that  her  nobility  had  not  only  reclaimed  a  sinner,  but 
had  set  a  man  into  the  way  of  a  man.  He  felt  her 
hand  trembling;  he  had  seen  the  happiness  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  continued,  "  Gwendolyn,  tell 
me  if  I  am  loved  even  with  half  the  passion  I  feel  for 
you."  He  looked  up  into  her  lovely,  pure  face  with 
pleading,  ardent  eyes. 

His  fervor,  the  love  in  his  voice,  thrilled  her  and 
awakened  a  new  emotion.  She  was  drawn  to  him  and 
held  by  a  stronger  feeling  than  she  ever  had  known 
before.  Timidly  her  hand  went  out  to  him  and  she 
murmured,  "  Yes,  I  love  you !  " 

With  a  low  exclamation  of  joy  and  victory,  Jean 
Marie  rose,  and  drawing  her  to  her  feet,  clasped  her 
in  his  arms.  Her  fair  head  rested  shyly  on  his 
breast  and  her  arm  stole  round  his  neck.  He  pressed 
a  kiss  upon  her  blushing  cheek.  Somehow  he  dared 
not  touch  her  lips. 

"  Gwendolyn,  my  love  !  "  he  fervently  said.  "  What 
have  I  ever  done  to  be  so  blessed!  I  have  tried  in 
vain  to  stifle  my  love  for  you,  believing  that  you,  dear 
angel,  would  never  care  for  me." 

"  Don't  humble  and  censure  yourself,  Jean,"  she 
murmured. 


144  THEFLAME 

"  How  sweet  it  is  to  hear  you  say  my  Christian 
name!  Ah,  Gwendolyn,  can  you  realize  the  happi 
ness  that  lies  before  us?  What  pride  I  shall  feel  in 
presenting  to  my  uncle  and  my  friends  a  peerless 
woman  that  queens  will  envy!  My  castle  shall  have 
a  mistress  more  than  worthy  of  its  ancient  name. 
My  uncle  will  be  overjoyed,  and  I  hope  that  your 
brother  will  favor  me." 

Gwendolyn  quickly  drew  away,  rousing  from  the 
spell  he  had  cast  over  her. 

"  No,"  she  said,  hurriedly,  gazing  at  him  with 
startled  eyes.  "  No,  he  doesn't  care  for  you  now. 
Oh,  Jean !  "  Tears  rose  in  her  eyes  and  trembled  on 
her  long  lashes.  She  believed  in  the  Prince,  yet  she 
felt  timid  and  uncomfortable.  "  We  cannot  tell 
Richard  yet.  He  never  would  give  his  consent,  and 
I  cannot  marry  without  it.  You  must  win  him, 
Jean."  A  half-stifled  sob  broke  from  her  lips. 

Jean  Marie  slipped  a  protecting  arm  round  her 
waist.  "  Don't  fear,  dearest.  Such  love  as  ours 
cannot  be  in  vain.  Your  brother  will  care  for  me  as 
I  esteem  him.  Can't  I  give  you  an  engagement 
ring?" 

"  No,  not  yet.  Richard  would  notice  it  and  ques 
tion  me.  It  is  best  to  wait." 

Jean  Marie  was  very  thankful  for  this,  because  he 
did  not  have  two  or  three  hundred  dollars  to  spare, 
and  he  was  glad  to  postpone  as  long  as  possible  the 
evil  day  of  plunging  himself  more  in  debt,  but  he 
sighed  with  befitting  sadness. 

"  As  you  wish,  dear,"  he  said.     "  Happiness  never 


THE     FLAME  145 

comes  without  a  little  pain.  My  pride  and  love  are 
so  great  that  I  would  proclaim  my  joy  from  the 
housetops,  but  I  yield  to  your  good  judgment." 

He  stayed  with  her  over  an  hour  longer  and  learned 
that  her  going  to  Pastori's  had  been  only  an  unfor 
tunate  accident  and  not  a  trick  of  Cavarodossi's,  as 
he  had  half  believed.  He  had  thought  that  perhaps 
Mario  had  met  Dubois,  and  learning  that  he  was 
going  to  the  resort  with  the  Prince  and  Camille,  had 
decided  to  take  Gwendolyn,  that  they  might  meet. 
But  she  told  him  that  at  dinner  the  night  before 
Richard  had  suggested  a  trip  to  San  Rafael  and 
Cavarodossi  had  invited  them  to  Pastori's.  Richard 
had  intended  to  accompany  them,  but  at  the  last  mo 
ment  business  kept  him  at  home.  Jean  Marie  con 
gratulated  himself  on  his  fortunate  escape,  knowing 
that  Richard  never  would  be  duped.  His  thankful 
ness  threw  a  new  ardor  into  his  voice,  and  his  sweet 
words,  his  tenderness,  the  pictures  he  drew  of  his 
romantic  life  with  Gwendolyn,  wove  a  fascinating 
web  over  her  and  she  listened  to  him  like  one  en 
tranced.  His  love  and  the  life  he  pictured  were  like 
a  poetic  novel  and  she  could  hardly  believe  that  such 
sentiment  and  romance  could  exist  in  this  modern, 
prosaic  age.  He  bewitched  her  so  that  she  forgot  all 
else  but  him  and  his  gentle,  soft  voice. 

But  when  he  left  and  the  door  closed  behind  him, 
the  charm  broke.  She  stood  still  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  and  a  strange  terror  stole  over  her.  What  had 
she  done?  Promised  her  life  to  this  man  of  whom 
she  knew  nothing  but  what  he  himself  had  told. 


146  THE     FLAME 

Richard  disliked  him  and  believed  him  an  unprinci 
pled  fortune-hunter.  Cavarodossi  was  suspicious  of 
him  .  .  .  Cavarodossi! 

She  caught  a  quick  breath.  ^Was  he  as  true  as 
Jean  Marie?  He  had  told  her  that  he  would  not 
take  such  a  woman  for  a  friend,  yet  he  often  called 
upon  her.  What  a  whirlpool  of  emotions  was  surg 
ing  within  her  1  What  doubts,  what  fears !  But 
Cavarodossi's  noble  face  rose  before  her  and  she 
could  see  in  his  honorable,  fearless  eyes,  a  grieved  re 
proach  for  her  folly.  A  frightened  little  cry  broke 
from  her  lips.  Suppose  Jean  Marie  had  not  told 
her  the  truth  concerning  this  cafe  singer.  Suppose 
there  had  been  more  than  a  harmless  flirtation  be 
tween  them,  and  that  the  singer  had  not  been  the  only 
woman  with  whom  he  had  trifled.  This  would  make 
him  a  polluted  man,  and  she  had  promised  her  life  to 
him!  A  shudder  ran  through  her,  and  staggering 
forward,  she  fell  into  a  chair  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  trembling  hands. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  following  day  was  Gwendolyn's  birthday, 
and  Jean  Marie,  elated  over  the  vast  fortune 
he  considered  as  good  as  won,  invited  Gwendolyn, 
Miss  Morris,  Richard  and  Cavarodossi  to  dine  with 
him  at  the  Fairmont  and  then  go  to  hear  the  first 
presentation  in  America  of  Mascagni's  opera, 
"  Amico  Fritz."  The  Prince  was  exceedingly  gra 
cious  to  Richard,  who  kept  himself  serenely  and  smil 
ingly  aloof,  as  he  always  did  when  with  Jean  Marie, 
but  with  scornful  amusement  he  noticed  the  Prince's 
added  attention. 

Cavarodossi  studied  Gwendolyn  with  surprise  and 
concern.  How  was  it  that  she  was  merrier  than 
usual  to-night  and  that  every  glance  she  gave  Jean 
Marie  was  full  of  a  secret  caress?  Had  the  Prince 
deceived  her,  or  was  she  pretending  to  be  deceived? 
Cavarodossi  was  most  uncomfortable.  He  never  had 
seen  Jean  Marie  more  self-satisfied  and  entertain 
ing. 

From  Gwendolyn's  happy  manner,  no  one  could 
have  guessed  that  she  had  passed  a  wretched,  sleepless 
night.  A  multitude  of  fears  had  tormented  her,  but 
when  the  morning  had  dawned  and  the  sun  had  crept 
into  her  room,  it  had  brought  courage  with  it,  and 
she  realized  that  her  engagement  was  known  only  to 

herself  and  Jean  Marie,  and  that  she  could  break  it 

147 


148  THE     FLAME 

if  any  of  her  fears  and  Richard's  proved  true.  In 
the  afternoon  she  received  some  flowers  from  Jean 
Marie  and  a  pretty  note  in  which  he  called  her  his 
sun  goddess,  whose  golden  hair,  rivaling  the  sun 
beams,  was  the  radiant  light  that  made  his  life  one 
bright,  eternal  day.  She  was  thrilled  again  by  his 
sentiment  and  the  deep  love  he  expressed,  and  now 
as  she  sat  beside  him  at  the  dinner  table,  she  felt  the 
fascination  of  his  presence  and  the  enchantment  of 
his  ardent  eyes.  This  Prince  belonged  to  her.  This 
man  upon  whom  all  eyes  were  turned  with  interest 
and  admiration  when  he  had  entered  the  dining-room, 
loved  her  alone !  She  had  won  him  when  women  far 
more  brilliant  than  herself  had  failed !  The  color  in 
her  cheeks  brightened,  and  her  eyes  glowed  with 
happy  pride. 

Richard,  as  well  as  Cavarodossi,  wondered  at  her 
merriment  and  was  not  only  displeased,  but  uneasy, 
for  he  could  see  without  a  doubt  that  the  Prince  was 
stealing  her  heart.  He  wished  that  Cavarodossi 
would  make  bolder  advances,  believing  that  Mario 
loved  his  sister. 

All  the  evening,  Jean  Marie  kept  close  to  Gwen 
dolyn,  and  in  the  motor-car,  on  the  way  to  the  thea 
ter,  he  sat  beside  her  and  in  every  way  was  a  most 
attentive  and  exquisite  cavalier. 

When  they  arrived,  Feleki  was  in  front  of  the 
theater,  conversing  with  some  musicians,  and  Jean 
Marie,  with  a  show  of  friendship,  invited  him  to  come 
into  his  box.  After  a  slight  hesitation,  Feleki  ac 
cepted. 

Jean  Marie  had  the  upper  box,  and  again  took  his 


T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E  149 

place  at  Gwendolyn's  side  and  gave  her  all  his  atten 
tion. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  brought  me  this  opera  score 
and  played  it  over  so  many  times,"  she  said  to  Cav- 
arodossi.  "  I'll  understand  it  and  appreciate  it  now. 
I  have  memorized  the  words  of  all  the  principal 
arias."  Gwendolyn  had  studied  Italian,  although  she 
did  not  speak  it  fluently.  "  You  know  the  opera, 
don't  you?  "  she  asked,  turning  to  Jean  Marie. 

"  Yes.  I  have  seen  it  several  times  in  Europe. 
The  orchestration  is  beautiful." 

"  I  prefer  it  to  '  Cavalleria,'  "  said  Cavarodossi, 
"  although  the  plot  is  so  absurdly  simple  that  it  al 
lows  no  opportunities  for  dramatic  effects.  Listen  to 
this  prelude." 

The  director  raised  his  baton  and  the  music  began. 
This  second  opera  of  Mascagni's,  composed  in  less 
than  two  years  after  "  Cavalleria,"  is  entirely  unlike 
his  first  work,  showing  his  versatility  as  a  composer. 
Where  his  first  opera  was  dramatic  and  gloomy, 
this  second  is  sweet  and  idealistic, —  a  symphonic 
poem. 

The  soprano  made  her  quiet  entrance  and  sang  the 
lovely,  melodious  "  Violet  Song  " ;  soon  afterwards, 
the  orchestra  ceased  and  from  the  wings  came  the 
first  notes  of  the  unique  gipsy  violin  solo,  vibrant 
with  intense  but  rude  feeling.  The  violin  sang  with 
full,  rich  tones  that  died  away,  only  to  return  with 
renewed  ardor  and  soul.  At  the  close  it  was  greeted 
with  tumultuous  applause. 

Feleki,  in  his  enthusiasm,  was  standing  and  shout 
ing,  "  Bravo ! " 


150  THE     FLAME 

In  answer  to  the  applause,  the  violinist  came  upon 
the  stage.  He  had  the  inspired,  classical  face  of  a 
young  Liszt,  and  his  pallor  was  enhanced  by  his 
wealth  of  Titian  red  hair.  The  audience  cheered 
him  and  would  not  be  satisfied  until  the  solo  was  re 
peated. 

With  bated  breath  Feleki  drank  in  every  note,  and 
at  the  end  of  the  act  he  said: 

"  I  must  meet  that  violinist.     He  is  great !  " 

"  I  know  him,"  said  Cavarodossi.  "  I'll  introduce 
you." 

"  Why  not  do  it  now?  "  asked  Richard,  "  and  then 
bring  him  to  our  home  some  day." 

"  If  you  will  excuse  us,  I'll  be  most  grateful," 
Feleki  said,  and  he  and  Cavarodossi  left  the  box. 

Mario  took  him  behind  the  scenes,  presented  him 
to  the  violinist,  and  then  started  back  to  join  his 
friends.  For  a  moment  he  stood  in  the  rear  of  the 
crowded  house.  Suddenly  his  arm  was  seized  and  he 
turned  and  looked  into  Camille's  burning  eyes. 

"  I  want  to  see  you  after  the  opera.  Will  you 
come  to  my  hotel?  "  she  asked  in  an  undertone. 

"  I  am  invited  to  Mr.  Rolfe's  home  for  supper." 
Mario  studied  her  with  troubled  surprise.  "  What 
is  it?" 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you.  Come,  no  matter 
how  late  it  is.  I  can't  sleep  until  I  have  talked  with 
you."  Her  eyes  were  aflame  with  anger. 

"  I'll  come." 

She  nodded  and  left  him.  He  watched  to  see 
where  she  was  going.  Her  seat  was  two-thirds  back 
in  the  house  and  on  the  side  opposite  Jean  Marie's 


T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E  151 

box,  of  which  she  had  full  view.  Cavarodossi  smiled 
as  he  returned  to  his  place. 

"  I  suppose  Monsieur  Feleki  is  happy,"  said  Gwen 
dolyn,  as  he  entered  the  box. 

"  Yes,  he  has  found  a  kindred  soul."  Cavarodossi 
glanced  at  Jean  Marie  and  was  satisfied  that  he  did 
not  know  of  Camille's  presence  in  the  theater. 

The  Prince's  chair  was  very  close  to  Gwendolyn's 
and  he  seemed  joyfully  unaware  of  everything  but 
the  girl  beside  him. 

Cavarodossi  felt  hot  blood  mounting  to  his  cheeks, 
and  he  turned  abruptly  and  took  the  seat  by  Miss 
Morris  that  he  had  left. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  second  act  began. 
Feleki,  with  a  beaming  face,  returned  just  as  the 
soprano  and  tenor  in  the  courtyard  of  the  farm  began 
the  exquisite  "  Cherry  duet."  In  each  succeeding 
act  the  music  becomes  more  intense  with  poetic  feel 
ing. 

Jean  Marie,  knowing  the  opera,  waited  for 
"  Fritz's  "  solo,  and  when  it  came,  he  moved  forward 
and  his  hand  stole  out  and  closed  over  Gwendolyn's 
with  a  slow,  expressive  grasp. 

The  tenor's  voice  rang  out  clearly :  — 

"  What  a  strangely  troubled  feeling 

Fills  my  heart  with  doubt  and  fear, 
While  my  brain  with  hope  is  reeling 

And  I'm  happy  while  she's  near. 
Can  it  be  that  Love  has  slain  me 

With  his  arrow,  sharp  and  strong? 
That  his  net  has  prisoner  taken  me, 

I  who  mocked  at  him  so  long?  " 


152  THE     FLAME 

Gwendolyn,  thrilled,  turned  and  looked  into  Jean 
Marie's  ardent  eyes. 

"  It  was  so  with  me,  dear,  until  I  knew  you,"  he 
murmured,  bending  forward.  His  eloquent  eyes 
slowly  turned  from  her  to  the  stage,  and  he  released 
her  hand  after  giving  it  a  last  tremulous  pressure. 

The  act  ended  with  a  volley  of  applause  from  the 
audience. 

"  Are  you  enj  oying  it  ?  "  Richard  asked  Gwendo 
lyn.  He  was  anxious  to  turn  her  attention  from 
Jean  Marie. 

"  Yes.  It  is  the  true  soul  of  Mascagni.  I  love 
his  music. —  Were  you  pleased  with  the  violinist?" 
she  asked  Feleki. 

"  More  than  pleased.  It  is  a  great  joy  to  meet  a 
true  artist." 

"Is  he  an  Italian?" 

«  Yes." 

"  Yes,"  echoed  Cavarodossi.  "  It  is  the  Italian 
who  has  the  true  heart,  and  the  Hungarian,  also,"  he 
added,  laying  his  hand  on  Feleki's  arm,  and  giving 
Jean  Marie  a  glance  that  was  not  altogether  compli 
mentary  to  his  heart. 

But  the  Prince  did  not  appear  to  understand. 

After  the  intermezzo  preceding  the  third  act  had 
been  played  and  repeated  at  the  demand  of  the  en 
thusiastic  audience,  the  curtain  rose,  and  Jean  Marie, 
who  had  moved  back  a  little  from  Gwendolyn,  came 
forward  and  leaned  over  her  chair.  She  occasion 
ally  turned  to  him  and  his  mild  eyes,  would  lighten 
up  with  admiration  and  joy  and  make  a  declaration 
of  love  that  was  more  eloquent  than  words. 


T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E  153 

Presently  "  Fritz,"  alone,  sang  feelingly :  — 

"  Oh,  Love,  oh,  beautiful  light  of  the  heart, 
Eternal  flame  within  the  world  itself, 
Mingling  happy  and  sad  caresses, — 

Life  is  in  thee! 

Soft  is  the  light  that  at  night  descends, 
Brilliant  is  the  powerful  sun  always, 
Yet  thy  ray  above  all  is  resplendent, — 

Light  of  the  heart! 
Oh,  shine,  bright,  eternal  torch, 
Diffuse  thyself,  pulsating  creator! 
Heaven  sings  the  hymn  of  peace: 

Life  is  Love !  " 

Jean  Marie  again  caught  Gwendolyn's  fingers  and 
held  them  fast.  She  did  not  turn  and  look  into  his 
eyes,  because  her  heart  was  throbbing  with  emotion, 
but  she  pressed  his  fingers  with  a  sudden  fervor, 
which  he  answered,  then  drew  his  hand  away.  He 
had  invited  her  to  this  opera,  because  the  plo't  was 
sweet,  simple  and  wholesome,  and  he  knew  that  it 
would  appeal  to  her  innocent  soul,  while  a  dashing 
dramatic  opera  like  "  La  Tosca "  or  "  Carmen " 
would  thrill  her  with  its  music,  but  the  love  scenes 
would  not  speak  to  her  heart,  nor  give  him  the  op 
portunity  slyly  to  play  the  ardent  lover. 

When  the  curtain  fell,  she  sat  for  a  moment  with 
her  eyes  closed. 

"Why  didn't  Mascagni  write  another  act?"  she 
presently  complained.  "  I  could  hear  it  all  over 
again." 

"  I'm  sure  the  artists  wouldn't  care  to  sing  it  over 
again,"  laughed  Richard. 


154  THE     FLAME 

As  they  went  down  from  the  box,  Jean  Marie 
stepped  back  to  pay  his  attention  to  Richard,  and 
Cavarodossi  was  at  Gwendolyn's  side.  She  did  not 
speak  to  him,  but  was  humming  the  tenor's  last  aria, 
and  softly;  sang  the  ending  lines, 

s '  Heaven  sings  the  hymn  of  peace : 
Life  is  Love ! ' ' 

"  Yes,"  said  Mario,  earnestly.  "  *  Life  is  Love,* 
but  the  love  must  be  true.  It  cannot  have  a  selfish 
motive,  and  pure,  undying  love  is  rare.  It  is  what 
we  all  are  seeking,  but  few  find  it." 

Gwendolyn  sighed  happily,  then  turned  a  quick 
glance  on  Cavarodossi.  He  gave  her  a  steady  look, 
and  she  liked  his  eyes,  although  they  reproached 
her. 

"  I  am  going  to  find  that  rare  love,"  she  said  with 
conviction. 

"  Then,  Mademoiselle,  you  must  look  elsewhere." 
It  was  Feleki  who  spoke.  He  was  behind  her  and  had 
Miss  Morris  by  the  arm. 

Gwendolyn  abruptly  turned  on  him. 

"  Elsewhere?  "  she  echoed. 

"  Yes.  There  is  no  unselfish  love  amongst  sing 
ers.  That  is  all  in  the  play."  But  his  eyes  gave  her 
a  different  answer. 

Gwendolyn  turned  back  and  for  the  moment  her 
doubts  and  fears  reawakened.  Was  Feleki,  also,  sus 
picious  of  Jean  Marie?  They  had  reached  the  thea 
ter  entrance  and  the  Prince  returned  to  her  side. 
She  caught  his  arm  and  clung  to  it. 


THE     FLAME  155 

It  was  one  o'clock  before  Cavarodossi  reached  Ca- 
mille's  hotel.  He  found  her  parlor  door  ajar;  so  he 
knocked  and  entered. 

Camille,  in  a  blue  lounging  robe,  was  lying,  face 
downward,  on  the  couch,  with  one  of  her  strong, 
white  hands  clutching  the  arm  of  it.  She  raised  her 
head  as  Mario  entered.  Her  face  was  pale  and 
marked  with  lines  that  her  careless  life  was  tracing, 
and  her  eyes  were  aflame.  He  paused  abruptly. 
He  never  had  seen  such  danger  in  a  face.  She  sprang 
up,  closed  the  door  that  he  had  left  half  open,  and 
locked  it. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  he  quietly  asked,  lay 
ing  down  his  hat  and  overcoat. 

She  stood  beside  him  like  a  tragic  Lady  Macbeth. 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you  of  my  life ;  then  I  want 
you  to  help  me  and  save  Miss  Rolfe."  She  looked 
at  him  keenly,  and  saw  in  his  eyes  that  she  had  struck 
a  responsive  chord. 

"  If  you  mean  the  story  of  your  life  in  the  Latin 
Quarter  of  Paris  and  your  leaving  it  with  the  Prince 
de  Bourbon,  I  know  of  that  already.  Janos  told  me, 
even  before  I  met  you." 

Her  expression  softened  and  the  hard  gleam  faded 
from  her  eyes  when  he  mentioned  Feleki. 

"  He  does  not  know  my  life  after  I  left  the  Latin 
Quarter.  You  must  listen,  so  that  Miss  Rolfe  can 
be  saved.  Perhaps  you  think  you  know  what  Bour 
bon  is,  but  you  don't  know  half."  She  motioned  him 
to  a  chair,  and  she  sat  near  him  on  the  couch.  "  You 
know  what  my  life  is,"  she  burst  forth  with  sudden 
vehemence,  "  and  it  was  Bourbon  who  made  me  what 


156  THE     FLAME 

I  am."  She  buried  her  face  in  her  trembling 
hands. 

"  Yes,  I  understand,"  said  Cavarodossi  in  a  sympa 
thetic  tone,  suppressing  his  emotion. 

She  looked  up,  and  throwing  back  her  head,  went 
on  with  dramatic  emphasis : 

"  He  was  true  to  me  for  two  years  after  he  had 
placed  me  in  a  cafe,  that  '  gilded,  enviable  position,' 
as  he  called  it,"  she  sneered,  "  then  he  left  me  alone, 
a  girl  of  twenty,  at  the  mercy  of  his  rich,  reprobate 
friends.  A  vulgar,  ignorant  dance-hall  singer  had 
caught  his  fancy.  After  a  few  months,  he  left  her 
and  returned  to  me,  for  I  was  then  the  rage  of 
Paris.  Men  were  showering  me  with  money  and 
jewels  for  a  song,  for  a  smile,  or  a  glance.  I  took 
him  back  because  he  belonged  to  me.  He  was  the 
only  man  who  was  truly  my  own,  but  it  was  not 
long  before  he  left  me  again,  for  another  woman  who 
had  fascinated  him.  Two  years  ago  he  met  a  dance- 
hall  singer  who  held  him  for  nearly  a  year,  but  she 
finally  cast  him  aside,  because  his  money  was  gone, 
and  then,  as  usual,  he  came  back  to  me,  but  this  time 
it  was  for  me  to  support  him.  His  uncle,  the  Due 
de  Castelnau,  had  become  thoroughly  disgusted  with 
him  and  refused  to  pay  any  more  of  his  debts ;  so 
he  came  to  me  repentant,  humble,  loving,  because 
he  knew  I  was  a  weak  fool  and  would  accept  him, 
and  I  did.  Everything  he  possessed  was  seized  for 
debt,  and  amongst  his  uncle's  friends  he  had  made 
himself  an  outcast  by  cheating  at  gambling,  and  it 
was  this  that  had  driven  him,  incognito,  to  the  Latin 
Quarter.  He  was  waiting  for  Paris  to  forget." 


THE     FLAME  157 

She  paused,  and  the  flame  in  her  eyes  was  burning 
intensely.  Both  hands  were  clutching  the  edge  of 
the  couch,  and  the  blue  veins  were  prominent. 

Cavarodossi  was  leaning  forward,  resting  on  the 
arm  of  the  couch.  He  was  devouring  every  word, 
but  did  not  speak. 

"  He  has  not  a  dollar  in  the  world,"  she  went  on, 
after  a  pause,  her  full,  red  lips  curled  with  con 
temptuous  scorn,  "  and  he  has  sold  nearly  all  of  his 
paintings  and  other  art  works.  For  a  year  I  sup 
ported  him ;  then  his  creditors  hounded  him  so  per 
sistently  that  he  decided  to  leave  Paris  and  come  to 
America  and  seek  a  fortune,  but  he  was  too  proud 
to  come  as  the  beggar  that  he  was,  and  I  sold  my 
jewels,  my  horses,  my  carriage,  and  raised  money 
from  every  man  who  had  a  franc  to  throw  away, 
and  gave  it  all  to  him.  He  said  he  was  coming  here 
to  work,  and  then  he  would  send  for  me,  and  I,  like  a 
simpleton,  believed  him.  He  went  to  see  his  uncle  and 
said  that  he  was  going  to  tell  him  of  his  good  inten 
tions,  but  I  know  now  what  he  did  tell  the  Duke, — 
that  he  was  coming  to  America  in  search  of  an 
heiress.  He  told  me  that  Castelnau  had  promised  to 
receive  him,  when  he  could  return  to  France  with 
money  enough  to  pay  his  debts  and  restore  his  hon 
orable  name." 

"Why  doesn't  he  sell  his  castle?"  asked  Cavaro 
dossi. 

"  His  castle !  "  She  laughed.  "  He  doesn't  own 
one.  It  belongs  to  his  uncle,  who  promised  him  a 
home  in  it  some  time  ago,  if  he  would  be  at  least 
half-way  respectable  and  marry  a  woman  who  could 


158  THE    FLAME 

help  him  recover  his  social  position.  When  he 
started  for  America,  he  promised  to  write  me  by 
every  steamer  and  give  me  a  full  account  of  his 
doings,  but  he  lied  to  me  when  he  did  write,  and  soon 
his  letters  ceased.  For  seven  months  I  waited  in 
vain  for  a  word  from  him ;  then  I  started  for  Amer 
ica,  not  only  to  -find  him  and  learn  the  truth,  but  to 
get  back  the  money  he  owes  me.  I  thought  perhaps 
good  luck  had  come  to  him,  and  that  for  this  reason 
he  wrote  no  more.  The  last  address  he  gave  me  was 
the  Fairmont  Hotel;  so  when  I  arrived,  I  went  there 
and  found  him !  " 

She  paused  and  there  was  triumph  in  her  tone. 

"  I  had  not  believed  him  so  low,"  said  Cavarodossi, 
with  disgust  and  contempt. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  he  has  a  sweet,  gracious 
manner,  and  I  believe  I  really  did  love  him  a  little 
until  I  saw  Janos  again.  Then  my  heart  with  all 
its  passion  cried  out  to  him,  my  first,  my  only  true 
love.  I  might  have  been  his  wife  now !  "  She  fell 
back  against  the  pillows  and  buried  her  face  in 
them. 

Cavarodossi  gazed  at  her  with  compassion. 
"  Have  courage,"  he  gently  said. 

She  drew  up  quickly.  "  Courage  for  what? 
Janos  is  lost  to  me  forever.  But,  yes,  I  have  cour 
age,"  she  added  with  a  sudden  burst  of  rage  and 
hatred,  "  courage  to  brand  Bourbon  in  America  and 
take  him  back  to  Paris,  ruined,  dishonored.  This  is 
my  determination." 

"  What  is  to  become  of  Miss  Rolfe?  "  asked  Mario, 
trying  to  subdue  the  interest  in  his  voice. 


THE     FLAME  159 

"  You  know  that  he  wants  to  marry  her,  don't 
you?"  She  leaned  closer  to  him  and  studied  him 
sharply. 

He  nodded. 

"  I  believed  it  from  the  first,"  she  said,  "  but  he 
denied  it.  To-night  I  saw  for  myself.  An  ac 
cepted  lover  could  not  have  been  more  attentive  than 
he,  and  he  treated  her  with  a  deference  that  he  never 
has  shown  me,  because  she  is  a  respectable  girl  in  a 
high  position."  Camille's  eyes  burned  dangerously 
and  all  the  color  fled  from  her  indignant  face.  "  He 
told  Dubois  that  he  was  going  to  take  her  to  the 
opera  to-night,  and  Dubois  let  it  slip  while  I  was  at 
luncheon  with  him  to-day ;  so  I  went  to  the  theater  to 
learn  the  truth  and  act  accordingly." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Mario  asked  with  con 
cern. 

She  leaned  still  closer  to  him.  "  Dubois  says  that 
the  Rolfes  give  receptions  and  entertainments  and 
employ  musicians  and  singers.  He  says  there  is 
some  talk  of  their  giving  one  soon.  I  want  you  in 
a  disinterested  way  to  tell  Mr.  Rolfe  about  me.  Get 
me  into  the  house;  I'll  do  the  rest.  I  can't  trust 
Dubois  with  my  scheme;  he  is  too  simple  and  bun- 
gling." 

"  No,"  Mario  said,  firmly.  "  I  can't  do  this  for 
you.  Strike  Bourbon  in  some  other  way,  but  don't 
bring  disgrace  and  public  suffering  to  Miss  Rolfe. 
It  would  be  most  unkind  and  unnecessary." 

Camille's  trembling  hand  stole  out  and  clutched 
Mario's  arm. 

"  You  won't  help  me?  "  she  slowly  asked. 


160  THE     FLAME 

"  Yes,  in  any  way  but  this.  You  mustn't  be  reck 
less.  Think  of  the  girl." 

"  I  am  thinking  of  her.  No  doubt  she  loves  him, 
although  the  public  doesn't  know  it,  and  it  will  take 
a  rude  shock  to  awaken  her." 

"  No,  you  are  mistaken.  She  is  innocent  and 
unsuspecting,  but  we  can  make  her  understand  what 
he  is  and  reject  him  without  her  brother  and  the 
world  knowing  of  her  folly." 

"  You  don't  know  him  as  I  do,"  she  said,  warn- 
ingly.  "  He  may  persuade  her  into  a  secret  mar 
riage.  He  is  a  practiced  deceiver  and  enticer,  and 
his  influence  is  dangerously  hypnotic.  Beware  that 
he  doesn't  trick  her  —  and  you." 

Cavarodossi,  pale  and  excited,  rose  and  walked  to 
the  farther  end  of  the  room.  She  watched  him  with 
catlike  slyness  and  a  gleam  of  triumph  crept  into 
her  eyes. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said,  at  last.  "  She  would  not 
yield  to  his  base  persuasion.  She  has  too  high  an 
idea  of  honor  and  too  great  a  love  for  her  brother." 

"  You  think  so,"  Camille  returned,  with  a  know 
ing  smile,  "  but  you  don't  understand  his  influence 
and  his  poisonous  charm.  Remember,  she  is  igno 
rant  of  the  world." 

Cavarodossi  vehemently  shook  his  head.  "  No," 
he  insisted,  "  she  will  not  yield  to  him." 

Camille  rose  and  caught  his  arm,  as  he  came  back 
to  her.  "  Then  help  me.  It  is  but  little  that  I  ask 
of  you." 

"  It  is  a  great  deal.  Mr.  Rolfe  would  keenly  feel 
the  disgrace  of  having  the  Prince  denounced  in  his 


THE     FLAME  161 

home,  because  his  sister  would  be  crushed  and  she 
could  not  hide  it,  and  I  cannot  prove  myself  un 
worthy  of  the  trust  he  has  in  me.  Let  us  think  of 
something  else." 

Camille's  sharp  eyes  studied  him  and  she  knew 
that  he  would  not  yield.  She  would  try  another 
way.  Bourbon  must  be  publicly  stripped  of  his 
honor  and  dignity. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said  after  a  pause.  "  I'll  try 
and  think  of  another  plan." 

"  Then  I'll  help  you,"  he  promised.  "  Miss  Rolfe 
must  be  saved." 

"  We  alone  can  do  it,"  Camille  returned. 

"  Yes,  we  and  Janos." 

"  Janos  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Janos  !  That  name 
is  forever  in  my  mind.  Night  and  day  it  will  not 
leave  me.  You  don't  know  what  it  is  to  be  cursed 
with  a  hopeless  love.  It  is  the  price  that  I  must  pay 
for  my  folly,  my  ambition." 

She  pressed  her  hand  to  her  tired  eyes  from  which 
the  fire  had  suddenly  died. 

"  I  am  going  to  leave  you,"  Mario  said,  gently. 
"  Go  to  bed  and  sleep  and  forget  the  past  and  the 
present.  Bourbon  is  a  beastly  scoundrel  and  we'll 
see  that  he  gets  his  pay,  but  forget  him  now." 

She  held  out  her  hand.  "You  are  my  friend?" 
she  asked. 

4  Yes.  I  wish  I  could  protect  you  from  all  harm 
and  suffering." 

She  gratefully  smiled.  "  You  are  kind  to  me. 
Good-night !  " 

Her  eyes  were  calm  as  he  never  before  had  seen 


162  THE     FLAME 

them.  It  made  him  apprehensive,  and  he  went  away 
with  fear  in  his  heart.  He  kept  asking  himself  if 
she  had  yielded  so  easily  to  his  better  judgment,  or 
had  she  deceived  him?  He  went  home,  but  no  sleep 
came  to  him  that  night.  His  only  thoughts  were  of 
Jean  Marie's  vile  life  and  the  dangerous  fascination 
that  he  had  cast  over  Gwendolyn. 


CHAPTER  XII 

AFTER  having  supper  at  the  Rolfe  home,  Jean 
Marie  left  very  well  satisfied  with  the  success 
of  his  evening's  entertainment.  He  knew  that  he 
had  conquered  Gwendolyn  completely,  and  he  was 
vain  enough  to  believe  that  his  title  and  personal  at 
tractiveness  were  of  sufficient  consequence  to  capti 
vate  Richard  in  time.  He  could  not  believe  it  possi 
ble  that  a  plebeian  American  millionaire  would  not 
succumb  eventually  to  a  highly  cultured  European 
nobleman,  especially  one  bearing  the  exalted  title 
of  a  prince.  He  was  already  figuring  on  his  uncle's 
delight  when  he  could  send  the  Duke  an  announce 
ment  of  his  engagement  to  a  fifty-million-dollar  heir 
ess. 

With  a  contented  smile,  Jean  Marie  stretched  him 
self  out  in  a  lounging  chair  in  his  reception-room 
at  the  Fairmont,  and  with  luxurious  ease  and  satis 
faction,  puffed  leisurely  at  his  expensive  cigarette. 
He  had  planned  a  most  alluring  future.  Gwendolyn 
would  be  plunged  into  the  whirl  of  a  social  life,  and 
this  would  give  him  his  liberty,  so  that  he  could  live 
as  when  a  bachelor.  They  would  make  their  home 
at  Versailles  with  his  highly-respected  and  moral  uncle, 
and  Jean  Marie  would  find  it  necessary  to  spend 
much  of  his  time  in  Paris.  Gwendolyn  was  so  inno 
cent  that  he  could  deceive  her  easily,  especially  if  he 

163 


164  THE     FLAME 

was  loving  and  romantic  when  with  her.  He  had 
no  intention  of  being  a  stern  master,  because  it 
would  be  more  agreeable  to  have  her  gay,  and  in 
this  way,  through  her,  he  could  count  upon  his 
uncle's  favor,  knowing  that  Gwendolyn  was  the  kind 
of  girl  who  would  please  the  Duke. 

A  slow  smile  curved  Jean  Marie's  lips  as  he 
thought  of  the  riotous  living  in  which  he  could  in 
dulge  when  he  would  have  fifty  millions  at  his  dis 
posal.  All  the  women  of  Bohemian  Paris  would  be 
at  his  feet,  but  the  one  he  coveted  most  of  all  was 
the  glowing,  capricious  Camille.  ,  .  .  Camille! 
The  thought  of  her  gave  him  a  most  unpleasant 
shock.  He  had  not  seen  her  since  the  meeting  with 
Gwendolyn  at  Pastori's.  That  night  he  and  Ca 
mille  had  had  a  stormy  scene  and  he  had  left  her  in 
a  rage,  vowing  that  he  never  again  would  see  her, 
but  he  knew  that  his  vow  was  meaningless,  because, 
as  she  had  pointedly  reminded  him,  he  was  abso 
lutely  within  her  power,  and  the  wisest  course  he 
could  follow  would  be  to  make  peace  with  her  again. 
If  she  chose,  she  could  in  one  interview  with  Gwen 
dolyn  or  her  brother,  rob  Jean  Marie  of  his  golden 
future.  He  well  knew  her  desperate,  reckless  char 
acter,  but,  to  a  certain  extent,  his  own  love  for 
money  blinded  him  to  the  fact  that  she  would  not 
be  dazzled  by  the  prospect  of  having  fifty  million 
dollars  almost  within  her  reach.  He  must  come  to 
some  understanding  with  her  at  once.  He  would 
try  to  stimulate  her  love  for  him,  and  if  he  did  not 
succeed,  he  would  try  to  buy  her  off ;  but  should  this 
last  device  fail  him  — 


THEFLAME  165 

Jean  Marie  sat  rigidly  erect  and  gave  his  ciga 
rette  a  vicious  bite.  The  mild  light  died  in  his  eyes, 
and  stern,  hard  lines  killed  the  sweet  amiability  in 
his  face.  He  would  rid  himself  of  her,  if  she  would 
not  yield  willingly ;  he  would  force  her, —  he  would 
cast  her  from  his  path.  With  a  throbbing  heart  and 
blood  beating  at  his  temples,  he  rose  and  began 
to  pace  the  floor.  Yes,  he  would  remove  her,  if 
she  would  not  submit.  It  would  be  the  only  way. 
He  had  no  one  else  to  fear,  because,  even  though  he 
might  win  Richard's  consent,  he  would  not  let  his 
engagement  to  Gwendolyn  be  announced  until  Feleki 
had  left  the  city. 

He  would  go  to-morrow  and  see  what  terms  he 
could  make  with  Camille,  but  he  would  not  let  a 
woman  from  the  Latin  Quarter  of  Paris  dominate 
him, —  the  bearer  of  a  great  title.  Although  he  had 
deserted  Camille  many  times,  she  fascinated  him  as 
no  other  woman  could,  and  the  fascination  never 
would  have  cooled  had  he  not  known  that  he  always 
could  return  to  her.  He  was  proud  of  her  beauty, 
of  her  grace,  and  her  voice,  and  now  that  he  was 
about  to  acquire  a  vast  fortune,  he  wanted  her  more 
than  ever,  because  she  was  the  undisputed  queen  of 
Bohemian  Paris  and  she  would  know  how  to  be  the 
regal  mistress  of  millions.  He  would  give  her  a 
luxurious  home  in  Paris,  in  which  she  could  con 
gregate  the  gay  nobility,  the  wealth,  and  the  celeb 
rities  of  the  French  capital.  This  always  had  been 
his  ambition  and  now  it  could  be  fulfilled.  But 
would  Camille  fail  him?  Would  she  refuse  to  ac 
cept  money  gained  through  his  marriage?  She  al- 


166  THE     FLAME 

ways  had  fought  such  a  suggestion,  but  he  was 
tempted  to  believe  that  she  would  yield  now  that 
the  golden  prize  was  near  at  hand.  Although  it 
seemed  incredible  to  him  that  she  would  hesitate  at 
fifty  millions,  yet  there  was  an  uncertainty  that 
kept  rising  in  his  heart.  If  she  would  not  accept 
his  proposition,  and  if  he  could  not  buy  her  off,  she 
would  be  his  most  dangerous  enemy,  and  her  venge 
ance,  like  a  raging  tornado,  would  pursue  and  crush 
him.  But  he  would  foil  her.  He  would  rid  himself 
of  her  as  he  would  crush  a  worm  beneath  his  foot. 
He  feared  no  consequences,  and  he  would  hesitate 
at  nothing,  being  absolutely  unscrupulous.  But  he 
wanted  Camille,  and  he  wanted  to  know  that  he  could 
win  her  in  spite  of  all  opposition  on  her  part.  Yet, 
if  she  were  obstinate 

He  drew  a  sharp  breath,  and  thrusting  his  hands 
down  deep  into  his  pockets,  continued  to  pace  the 
floor.  Finally,  with  a  vortex  of  passion  surging 
through  him,  he  went  to  bed,  but  he  slept  no  more  that 
night  than  did  Cavarodossi. 

When  Jean  Marie  rose  in  the  morning,  he  was 
impatient  and  curt  to  Fra^ois,  and  he  barely  touched 
his  breakfast.  His  nerves  were  in  a  tumult,  and 
to  calm  them,  he  increased  his  customary  use  of 
absinthe.  Then  he  debated  whether  he  should  call 
on  Camille  so  early  and  let  her  know  of  his  anxiety 
to  see  her,  or  should  he  wait  until  after  eleven 
o'clock  and  let  it  appear  that  he  had  called  to  take 
luncheon  with  her.  He  regarded  the  latter  plan 
more  in  accord  with  his  princely  dignity.  It  would 
not  do  to  be  too  humble  and  anxious. 


THE     FLAME  167 

When  Celeste  opened  the  parlor  door,  Jean  Marie 
found  Camille,  in  a  white  morning  gown,  arranging 
some  Marechal  Niel  roses  in  a  large  vase.  Her 
back  was  half  turned  to  the  door,  and,  as  he  en 
tered,  she  threw  him  a  glance  over  her  shoulder,  that 
seemed  most  unpropitious  to  his  success,  but  he 
went  forward  with  a  radiant  smile,  and  bending 
kissed  her  round,  white  arm.  He  was  happily  aware 
that  she  did  not  shrink  from  him.  A  triumphant, 
hateful  light  glittered  in  her  eyes  as  they  rested  upon 
his  stooping  figure,  but  when  he  raised  his  head,  her 
glance  was  mellow  with  a  tender  reproach,  and  a 
thrill  shot  through  him. 

"  Forgive  my  horrid  temper  the  last  time  we 
met,"  he  said  in  his  sweetest  and  most  apologetic 
tone. 

She  smiled  ambiguously,  and  he  deemed  it  best  to 
say  no  more. 

He  raised  one  of  the  roses  and  inhaled  its  delicate 
perfume. 

"Who  sent  you  these?"  he  asked  with  his  custo 
mary  familiarity  and  interest. 

"  Dubois." 

Jean  Marie  laughed  lightly.  "  Is  the  trigger  fish 
growing  romantic?  These  roses  mean  'adoration, 
yours  heart  and  soul ' !  He  must  be  very  amus- 
ing." 

Camille  smiled,  good-naturedly.  "  He  is,  and 
even  his  company  is  acceptable  now  that  you  leave 
me  alone." 

"  Have  you  missed  me?  "  There  were  a  sudden 
ardor  and  sentiment  in  his  voice. 


168  THE     FLAME 

"  As  a  child  misses  its  toy."  She  gave  him  a 
cold,  defiant  glance ;  then  her  eyes  softened,  and 
laughing  with  a  purring  sweetness,  she  slipped  her 
arm  through  his,  but  she  had  chilled  him  and  she 
knew  it. 

"  I  can't  ask  you  to  be  kind  to  me,"  he  returned 
with  forced  repentance,  "  because  I  have  been  cruel 
to  you." 

"  Cruel  to  me !  "  she  echoed,  and  the  words  fell 
tremulously  from  her  quivering  red  lips,  but  as  poig 
nant  as  the  meaning  was,  it  did  not  affect  him,  al 
though  he  understood. 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  did  speak  cruelly  to  you  after  our 
return  from  Pastori's,  but  you  must  acknowledge 
that  you  were  exasperatingly  impudent,"  and  he 
laughed  lightly.  "  Let  us  kiss  and  forgive." 

She  made  no  resistance  as  he  folded  her  in  his 
arms  and  pressed  his  lips  to  hers,  but  she  smiled  with 
almost  ironical  amusement  as  he  drew  away. 

"  Sit  down,  Jean,"  she  said,  breezily,  "  and  tell 
me  how  you  have  been  spending  your  time.  There 
are  some  cigarettes  on  this  table  if  you  can  un 
earth  them.  Celeste  hasn't  straightened  the  room 
yet.  You  are  an  early  caller,  but,  no,"  as  she 
glanced  at  the  clock,  "  it  is  half  after  eleven.  I 
didn't  know  it  was  so  late."  She  went  on  arranging 
the  flowers,  stepping  back  now  and  then  to  view 
them. 

Her  gracious,  familiar  tone  immediately  set  Jean 
Marie  at  ease,  and  dropping  into  a  chair,  he  helped 
himself  to  one  of  his  own  cigarettes.  As  he  sat 
slowly  and  daintily  rolling  it  between  his  slender 


THE     FLAME  169 

fingers,  he  studied  Camille  with  a  sort  of  puzzled 
curiosity.  There  was  more  color  than  usual  in  her 
cheeks,  and  her  eyes  had  an  added  brilliancy.  In  the 
two  days  that  they  had  been  separated,  her  beauty 
seemed  to  have  increased  and  blossomed  with  a  new 
glowing  intensity.  Every  movement  of  her  hands 
and  body  seemed  electrified  with  a  nervous  vigor  and 
abandonment.  He  wondered  what  had  changed 
her,  what  had  kindled  this  new  fire  in  her  blood.  It 
stirred  him  and  intensified  his  infatuation  for  her. 
She  was  the  queen  of  queens. 

Camille  felt  his  enraptured  gaze,  and  permitted 
him,  with  apparent  unconsciousness,  to  satiate  him 
self  with  adoration. 

"  Well,  how  have  you  spent  your  time?  "  she  pres 
ently  asked,  setting  the  vase  in  the  center  of  the  table, 
and  taking  a  chair  opposite  him. 

He  tore  his  eyes  away  from  her,  and  leisurely 
striking  a  match,  lighted  his  cigarette. 

"  I've  been  moping,"  he  said.  "  Could  I  do  any 
thing  but  pine  when  I  am  not  with  you?  " 

She  smiled.  "  You  were  not  wasted  away  when 
I  arrived  from  France,"  she  said,  putting  her  elbow 
on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  and,  resting  her  chin  in  the 
palm  of  her  hand,  tilted  back  her  head  and  studied 
him  with  mocking,  half-closed  eyes. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  not  wasted  away,  but  hop 
ing,  praying,  watching  for  the  opportunity  to  make 
a  fortune  and  return  to  you." 

"  You  promised  that  you  would  send  for  me  to 
come  here." 

"  Yes,  but  I  had  changed  my  mind.     America  is 


170  THE     FLAME 

no  place  for  a  European  nobleman.  The  people 
neither  understand  nor  appreciate  nobility." 

Camille  laughed  lightly.  "  Really,  Jean,  I  must 
defend  the  Americans.  I  think  any  man  is  appre 
ciated  here  if  he  has  true  valor  and  proves  himself 
to  be  something  more  than  ordinar}^  Of  course, 
you  can't  expect  a  mere  title  to  appeal  to  the  true- 
spirited  republicans.  A  man  must  be  up  and  doing 
something  worth  while  to  satisfy  them." 

"  '  Up  and  doing  something ! '  "  he  scornfully  re 
peated.  "  Surely,  Camille,  you  don't  expect  me  to 
become  plebeian,  do  you?" 

She  elevated  her  brows  with  mild  surprise. 
"  Didn't  you  intend  to  do  work  of  any  kind  when 
you  came  here?  How  did  you  expect  to  make  a 
living  for  yourself  and  for  me?  " 

He  was  busily  adjusting  the  mouthpiece  on  his 
cigarette,  and  did  not  glance  up.  She  smiled  sar 
castically. 

"  I  didn't  know,"  he  presently  returned,  "  but 
we  hear  in  Europe  that  gold  is  easily  gathered  in 
America.  It  is  an  absurd  fable.  The  only  way  a 
nobleman  can  make  a  fortune  in  this  country  is  by 
marrying  an  heiress."  He  did  not  glance  at  her  im 
mediately,  but  when  he  did,  he  saw  a  strangely  de 
fiant  glitter  in  her  eyes. 

"  That  is  not  the  way  by  which  you  can  make  a 
fortune,  Jean,"  she  said  in  a  very  quiet  but  decided 
tone. 

He  carelessly  laughed.  "Why  not?  You  know 
that  whatever  I  gain  is  half  yours,  more  than  half." 

"  As  I  have  told  you  before,  Jean,  money  acquired 


THE    FLAME  171 

in  such  a  way  would  have  no  value  for  me  and  I 
wouldn't  accept  it.  You  are  mine  and  I  won't  give 
you  to  another." 

He  leaned  forward  and  love  flared  in  his  eyes.  "  I 
don't  want  you  to  renounce  me.  I  love  you,  Ca- 
mille,  only  you.  No  other  woman  can  hold  me. 
You  know  it.  I'll  never  desert  you  again." 

"  So  you  are  playing  to  win  Miss  Rolfe,"  she 
said,  sitting  erect  and  ignoring  his  words. 

He  shrugged  with  annoyance.  "  Why  do  you 
constantly  refer  to  her?  " 

"  Because  I  understand  your  game.  Why  should 
you  have  been  in  such  a  rage  at  me  after  our  meeting 
with  her  at  Pastori's  if  it  were  not  that  you  are  try 
ing  to  win  her?  Would  Janos  have  been  so  angry  if 
I  had  called  him  by  his  Christian  name  in  her  pres 
ence?  No,  because  he  is  not  trying  to  ensnare  her." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  he  is  not?  "  Jean  asked 
with  a  spiteful  light  in  his  eyes.  "  I  rarely  call 
on  Miss  Rolfe  without  finding  Feleki  there." 

Camille  gave  him  a  quick  glance.  "  Is  he  intimate 
at  the  house?" 

"  Surprisingly  so,"  he  sneered. 

A  gleam  of  triumph  shot  into  her  eyes,  but  she 
veiled  them  with  her  long  lashes. 

"  I  am  speaking  of  you,  Jean,"  she  said.  "  I 
won't  share  you  with  another." 

His  voice  softened  as  he  asked,  "  Do  you  love  me 
so  much?  " 

"  You  are  mine !  "  was  all  she  said.  There  was 
no  love  in  her  tone,  and  Jean  Marie  detected  it  with 
troubled  surprise. 


172  THE     FLAME 

"  Then  you  wouldn't  bless  my  nuptials  ?  "  he  care 
lessly  asked. 

"  Never !  "  It  rang  out  with  vehemence  and  de 
cision  that  stifled  his  hope  of  ever  having  her  the 
peerless  ornament  of  his  Parisian  home.  But  his 
hope  died  hard,  because,  as  he  sat  before  her  and 
studied  her  perfection,  he  could  not  bring  himself 
to  giving  her  up  without  a  struggle.  She  strongly 
satisfied  his,  highly  cultured  sense  of  beauty  and 
she  also  was  intellectually  the  woman  he  desired. 
They  had  been  together  so  long  that  she  seemed  a 
part  of  himself,  and  now  that  he  faced  the  renuncia 
tion  of  her,  he  faltered.  He  could  not  realize  that 
she  was  lost  to  him.  He  would  not  let  it  be  the  end. 
She  had  said  that  he  was  hers,  anil  his  heart  cried  out 
that  she  was  his. 

He  forced  a  laugh,  but  it  was  unsteady. 

"  As  long  as  we  are  indulging  in  fables,"  he  said, 
"  let  us  carry  it  a  little  further.  Suppose  it  should 
happen  that  I  loved  you  no  more, —  remember,  I  am 
only  saying  suppose,  because  that  never  could  be  a 
reality, —  how  much  money  would  you  demand  as 
the  price  of  my  freedom?  " 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  rage  swept  through 
her  with  a  force  that  swayed  her.  The  fire  in  her 
eyes  gave  them  a  reddish  hue,  and  the  blood  fled 
from  her  face,  leaving  it  ashen. 

"  You  dare  — "  she  burst  forth,  but  the  tempest 
within  her  choked  her  voice.  "  You  dare  to  ask  the 
price  I  demand  for  giving  you  your  freedom!  In 
my  youth  and  folly,  I  gave  you  all  I  had  to  give,  and 
you  swore  that  you  would  love  and  cherish  me  till 


THE    FLAME  173 

death.  How  have  you  protected  me  from  tempta 
tion  and  insults?  What  have  you  made  of  me! 
And  now  you  ask  the  price  of  your  freedom !  There 
is  no  price.  You  gave  yourself  to  me  and  you  are 
mine  till  death, —  till  death.  As  long  as  there  is  a 
breath  of  life  in  my  body,  I  will  claim  you.  The 
price  I  demand  is  yourself.  There  is  nothing  else 
that  I  will  accept.  You  are  mine,  not  only  by  your 
own  giving,  but  because  I  have  bought  and  paid  for 
you." 

Jean  Marie's  blood  was  afire,  and  inwardly  he  was 
trembling  with  outraged  pride  and  defeat,  but  he 
mastered  his  feelings  and  showed  her  nothing  but 
cold  assurance.  Even  through  the  overwhelming 
force  of  his  rage  there  stole  the  vivid  realization 
of  her  wild,  almost  barbaric  beauty.  He  never  had 
seen  her  in  such  a  fury,  and  while  he  was  maddened 
by  her  words,  he  was  fascinated  by  her  glowing, 
animal  strength  and  power.  Must  he  rob  himself  of 
the  chance  of  ever  again  making  her  his  own?  She 
never  had  been  so  bewitching.  Her  loveliness  never 
had  so  intoxicated  him.  Under  the  spell  of  her 
dominant  force,  he  would  have  caught  her  in  his 
arms,  but  her  rich,  lashing  voice  rudely  aroused 
him. 

"  You  can't  deceive  me  by  calling  these  proposi 
tions  that  you  have  made  fables.  I  understand  it 
all.  You  are  courting  Miss  Rolfe,  and  she  either 
has  accepted  you  or  you  are  very  sure  that  she  will. 
I  saw  you  with  her  last  night  at  the  opera." 

"  You  were  there?  "  he  broke  in. 

"  Yes,  and  if  you  were  her  fiance,  you  could  not 


174  THE     FLAME 

have  been  more  attentive,  and  forgetful  of  all  else  but 
her.  You  have  tried  to  make  me  believe  that  she 
loves  Cavarodossi.  I  wish  it  were  true,  for  she  is 
worthy  of  a  decent  man." 

His  hands  clenched  with  a  jerk.  f'  You  are  most 
complimentary,"  he  sneered,  with  cutting  sarcasm. 

She  leaned  towards  him,  resting  one  hand  on  the 
table.  "  Did  you  believe  that  you  could  buy  me?  " 

He  shrugged.  "  I  didn't  want  to  believe  it.  I 
love  you,  Camille,  and  I  want  you  and  you  alone. 
I'm  not  engaged  to  Miss  Rolfe,  and  there  is  no  pros 
pect  that  I  ever  shall  be,  but  suppose  I  were,  would 
you  desert  me  when  all  of  her  millions  would  be  at 
your  command?  Think  of  the  luxurious  life  we 
could  lead !  "  He  sighed. 

She  impatiently  waved  her  hand  to  silence  him. 
"  You  know  my  answer." 

He  carelessly  laughed.     "  You'll  never  change  ?  " 

"Never!" 

Jean  Marie  fastened  a  devouring  gaze  upon  her. 
She  had  sealed  her  own  doom,  he  told  himself,  but  he 
could  not  conquer  the  longing  for  her  love.  His 
turbulent  emotions  and  the  struggle  to  suppress 
them  were  wearing  dangerously  on  his  overwrought 
nerves.  His  love  for  gold  and  his  infatuation  for 
Camille  were  tearing  his  heart  asunder.  He  dared 
not  remain  longer  in  her  presence,  for  he  was  losing 
control  of  himself,  and  he  feared  for  what  he  might 
do.  His  final  decision  must  be  made  when  he  was  in 
a  more  tranquil  state  of  mind  and  away  from  her. 
He  rose. 

"  I'm   sorry   we  have   quarreled   again,"   he   said, 


THE     FLAME  175 

smothering  his  emotions,  "  and  I  regret  having 
spoken  of  this  imaginary  fortune.  Such  hot  dis 
putes  will  ruin  our  happiness  should  this  fabulous 
wealth  ever  materialize."  He  smiled. 

"  It  never  will,"  she  firmly  answered. 

He  shrugged.  "  Whenever  I  speak  of  wealth,  it 
is  always  for  your  sake." 

"  I'm  not  particular  how  you  make  money,  Jean, 
but  not  a  dollar  of  it  can  come  through  another 
woman." 

"  My  jealous  little  beauty !  "  He  playfully  slipped 
his  arm  about  her,  that  she  might  not  believe  him 
deeply  stirred. 

"  We  are  going  back  to  Paris  together,"  she  said, 
looking  him  full  in  the  eyes ;  "  so  forget  this  Ameri 
can  gold." 

"  I  can't  go.  There  would  be  no  welcome  for  me 
unless  I  had  great  wealth." 

She  smiled,  and  closed  her  eyes  that  he  might  not 
see  the  gleam  of  satisfaction  in  them. 

66  Poor  Jean !  "  she  murmured  in  a  purring  tone. 

He  abruptly  drew  away.  "  Good-by !  I  must 
go.  I  promised  to  lunch  with  some  friends  at  the 
club."  He  took  up  his  hat. 

She  caught  his  arm  and  turned  him  towards  her. 

"  Don't  forget  what  I  have  said.  I'll  never 
change."  Her  eyes  burned  him  through. 

She  need  not  have  told  him  to  remember. 

When  he  left  her,  he  hurried  back  to  the  Fairmont, 
fearing  that  he  might  meet  some  acquaintance  on  the 
street,  and  he  knew  that  he  would  betray  his  agitation. 
Reaching  his  bedroom,  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair. 


176  THE     FLAME 

Which  did  he  yearn  for  the  more, —  money  or 
Camille?  He  could  feel  even  now  the  fascination  of 
her  presence.  It  stole  over  him;  it  mastered  him; 
it  was  a  living  force.  She  was  his,  and  he  was  posi 
tive  that  she  never  would  desert  him  so  long  as  he 
did  not  marry.  But  the  fortune!  He  knew  that 
his  longing  for  Camille  was  a  mad  intoxication,  and 
he  knew  also  that  when  her  youth  and  beauty  would 
be  gone,  he  would  be  sobered  and  care  for  her  no 
more.  Then  he  would  be  without  money,  without 
position,  without  the  luxuries  that  were  dear  to  him. 
He  believed  that  in  time  he  could  conquer  his  longing 
for  her.  There  were  many  more  charming  women 
in  the  world,  but  as  he  realized  that  the  end  was 
near,  his  infatuation  deepened  and  her  beauty  al 
lured  him.  His  heart  fought  for  her,  as  Ulysses 
fought  to  break  the  ropes  that  bound  him  that  he 
might  plunge  into  the  sea  in  pursuit  of  the  Sirens, — 
and  destruction. 

Jean  Marie  knew  that  it  would  mean  destruction 
to  him  to  cling  to  Camille  and  renounce  Gwendolyn's 
fortune.  He  thought  of  what  he  could  do  when 
returning  to  Paris  with  great  wealth,  how  he  could 
reestablish  the  position  to  which  his  noble  birth 
entitled  him,  how  he  could  repay  those  who  had 
slighted  him  after  his  downfall.  He  could  be  the 
king  of  Bohemia,  and  he  knew  how  to  reign !  What 
was  the  possession  of  one  woman  compared  with 
such  a  life  as  this!  He  tossed  back  his  head  and 
laughed  aloud.  Yes,  it  was  wealth  in  preference  to 
Camille,  and  she  had  sealed  her  own  doom. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

JANOS  suffered  a  rude  shock  when  his  valet 
handed  him  an  envelope  bearing  Camille's  char 
acteristic  handwriting.  For  a  moment  he  clutched 
it  and  a  tumult  of  emotions  battled  in  his  heart.  He 
had  not  forgotten  her  writing;  he  could  not,  it  was 
so  like  the  woman  herself, —  dashing,  bold,  impetu 
ous.  The  same  perfume  that  had  agitated  him  and 
aroused  memories  of  the  past  when  he  had  entered  her 
parlor  with  Cavarodossi,  rose  now  from  the  paper 
and  stirred  him.  He  tore  open  the  envelope,  but 
hesitated  before  drawing  forth  the  letter.  What 
had  made  her  write  to  him?  It  must  be  something 
of  unusual  moment,  and  he  almost  feared  to  read  it. 
Reluctantly  he  unfolded  the  paper. 

Jdnos : 

I  am  writing  to  you,  not  for  myself,  but 
in  behalf  of  a  friend  of  yours  and  Cavaro- 
dossi's.  I  must  see  you.  Come  to  me  as 
soon  as  possible  after  receiving  this.  An 
innocent  child  is  in  peril,  and  we  must  save 
her.  You  understand,  don't  you?  I  am 
counting  upon  your  aid. 

Forgive  this  liberty  I  am  taking. 
In  haste, 

CAMILLE. 
177 


178  THE     FLAME 

The  letter  surprised  him  and  he  read  it  twice. 
There  was  no  tenderness  in  it,  no  reference  to  the 
past.  He  was  grateful  for  her  forbearance,  as  Ca- 
mille  shrewdly  knew  he  would  be.  She  knew  that  if 
she  wrote  to  him  with  more  familiarity  than  the 
merest  acquaintance  might  manifest,  he  never  would 
go  to  her. 

It  was  the  morning  after  her  scene  with  Jean 
Marie.  She  understood  now  that  he  had  won  Gwen 
dolyn,  and  that  if  she,  Camille,  would  accept  the 
money  he  could  offer,  it  was  his  intention  to  buy  her 
off.  The  infamous  proposition  he  had  made,  in 
flamed  her  hatred  for  him.  Did  he  believe  her  so 
unprincipled?  She  would  repay  him  for  his  insults, 
and  it  gave  her  a  thrill  of  satisfaction  when  she 
thought  how  he  dreaded  returning  to  Paris  without 
wealth. 

The  jealousy  of  Gwendolyn  that  she  had  felt  at 
first  had  been  drowned  in  the  whirlpool  of  venge 
ance  that  was  surging  through  her.  Cavarodossi 
had  failed  her  in  her  scheme  to  enter  the  Rolfe  home, 
but  she  had  not  abandoned  the  idea,  as  Mario  feared 
she  would  not.  It  had  stimulated  her  determination 
to  carry  out  her  plan  when  Jean  Marie  had  told  her 
that  Janos  was  intimate  at  the  Rolfe  home.  He 
could  help  her,  and  she  did  not  consider  that  he 
might  refuse,  when  he  would  be  saving  Gwendolyn 
and  ruining  the  Prince. 

Camille  felt  impelled  to  act  quickly,  for  she  was 
certain  that  danger  was  concealed  beneath  Jean  Ma 
rie's  cold  assurance.  It  was  not  like  him  to  be  calm 
when  disgrace  and  defeat  were  confronting  him,  but 


THE     FLAME  179 

she  knew  that  to  trap  him,  she  must  pretend  not  to 
doubt  his  sincerity.  She  was  troubled  in  wondering 
what  trickery  he  was  planning. 

Feleki  hurriedly  ate  a  light  breakfast  and  started 
to  Camille's  hotel.  What  did  she  know  concerning 
Gwendolyn,  and  how  did  she  intend  to  save  her?  It 
deeply  troubled  him,  but  not  more  than  the  breaking 
of  his  determination  not  to  see  Camille  again.  He 
knew  how  painfully  his  heart  would  throb  when  he 
would  be  near  her,  but  it  was  for  the  sake  of  right 
eousness  and  Gwendolyn,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  in 
his  duty. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  hotel,  he  paused  at  the 
entrance,  that  he  might  gain  better  control  over  him 
self  and  again,  as  he  stood  before  her  door,  he 
paused  and  braced  himself,  as  if  about  to  undergo 
physical  pain.  He  could  feel  the  color  in  his  cheeks 
slowly  creeping  away,  and  he  knew  that  his  eyes  were 
glittering  with  an  unnatural  brilliancy.  His  heart 
was  hammering  loudly  as  he  knocked  on  the  door, 
and  a  strange  choking  sensation  gripped  him  as 
Celeste  appeared  and  asked  him  to  enter.  He 
thought  no  more  of  Gwendolyn  nor  of  Jean  Marie,  but 
was  conscious  only  that  he  was  in  the  apartments  of 
Diane  Godin,  his  dead  ideal.  Walking  to  the  farther 
end  of  the  room,  he  stood  facing  the  piano,  and 
waited.  His  hands  were  clutching  the  back  of  the 
chair ;  his  muscles  were  drawn  to  a  tension.  He  heard 
a  light  step,  but  a  few  seconds  passed  before  he 
turned. 

In  this  momentary  lapse,  Camille  had  crushed 
down  the  love  that  had  flooded  her  eyes.  She  knew 


180  THEFLAME 

that  her  only  hope  lay  in  meeting  him  without  emo 
tion. 

"  I  thank  you  for  coming,"  she  quietly  said.  She 
did  not  take  a  chair  near  him,  nor  did  she  purposely 
arrange  the  graceful  folds  into  which  her  soft  pink 
gown  fell.  She  knew  that  he  had  no  love  for  her  as 
Camille  Dubray,  and  she  had  no  intention  of  trying 
to  ensnare  him.  Through  her  own  folly  she  had 
lost  him,  and  she  yielded,  believing  that  he  never 
again  could  find  peace  and  happiness  with  her.  Not 
only  had  she  killed  his  faith  in  her;  his  respect  had 
perished  with  it.  Yet  not  one  of  these  miserable 
thoughts  was  visible  in  her  face  as  she  sat  before 
him. 

"  How  can  I  serve  you?  "  he  asked,  restraining 
his  emotion. 

"  It  is  my  intention  to  save  Miss  Rolfe  from  Bour 
bon,  and  you  can  help  me." 

Janos  hesitated.  He  would  not  lend  himself  to  a 
petty  revenge. 

"  Do  you  believe  that  he  is  trying  to  win  her?  " 
he  asked. 

"  I  know  it." 

He  misunderstood  the  passion  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  can  help  you,"  he  said. 

"  I  want  to  gain  an  entrance  to  the  Rolfe  home." 

Janos  looked  at  her,  astonished.  "  Do  you  wish 
me  to  take  you  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  not  as  a  friend.  I  want  you  to  secure 
me  an  engagement  to  sing  at  their  next  musicale." 

Janos  leaned  forward  in  his  anxiety.  "  What  do 
you  expect  to  do  to  Miss  Rolfe?  " 


THE    FLAME  181 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  her  what  kind  of  a  man  Bour 
bon  is."  Her  voice  slightly  trembled. 

Feleki  was  silent,  wondering  why  Camille  with  her 
daring  did  not  go  alone  to  call  on  Gwendolyn.  Why 
did  she  wish  to  drag  him  into  this  affair? 

Camille  surmised  his  thoughts,  and  said,  quickly: 

"  You  must  understand  me.  I  do  not  wish  to 
see  Miss  Rolfe  privately.  It  is  in  the  midst  of  many 
people  that  I  want  to  denounce  Bourbon.  This  ex 
pose  is  for  the  public,  not  for  the  girl  alone."  The 
fire,  the  hatred  in  her  eyes  were  unmistakable. 

Janos  gripped  the  arms  of  his  chair. 

"  You  don't  love  him  ?  "  he  quickly  asked. 

"Love  him?"  she  scoffed.  "No,  a  thousand 
times  no.  All  the  affection  I  felt  for  him  in  the  past 
has  turned  to  the  most  bitter  scorn.  What  has  he 
done  that  would  inspire  love  and  respect?  I  was 
mad  when  I  went  away  with  him,  but  I  am  sane  now 
and  I  know  what  he  is.  All  he  wants  of  Miss  Rolfe 
is  her  millions,  that  he  may  continue  his  gay  life  in 
a  more  lavish  manner,  but  I  am  going  to  thwart  him. 
He  never  will  have  the  chance  to  ruin  another 
woman's  life  as  he  has  ruined  mine."  Her  voice  rang 
out  with  defiance  and  resolution,  then  suddenly  her 
head  sank  forward  and  she  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands, 

Feleki's  eyes  were  riveted  upon  her  and  his  heart 
overflowed  with  compassion,  but  he  felt  no  impulse 
to  take  her  in  his  arms.  It  was  an  ever  present  pang 
that  she  was  no  longer  Diane  Godin.  He  could 
bring  himself  to  forgive,  but  not  to  forget.  She 
loved  Bourbon  no  more!  If  she  intended  to  leave 


182  THE     FLAME 

him  and  live  a  good  life,  Janos  would  do  all  he  could 
to  help  her. 

"  Have  you  quarreled  with  Bourbon  and  separated 
from  him?  "  he  presently  asked. 

She  raised  her  head  with  a  quick  toss.  "  No. 
We  always  are  quarreling,  but  he  doesn't  understand 
how  I  despise  him,  and  he  never  will  know.  He  is 
mine  and  I  am  going  to  keep  him,  because  he  is  all 
I  have  to  call  my  own."  She  saw  that  there  was  no 
accession  of  love  in  his  eyes,  nor  had  she  expected  to 
find  it.  "  But  let  us  not  speak  of  this,"  she  quickly 
added.  "  Will  you  take  me  to  the  Rolfe  home?  " 

Feleki  shook  his  head.  "  I  can't  do  that,  espe 
cially  now  that  Miss  Rolfe  has  seen  you  at  Pastori's 
with  Bourbon.  It  would  be  a  most  unkind  thing  for 
me  to  do.  I  feel  a  friendship  for  her  and  a  sym 
pathy,  because  she  is  so  innocent,  and  if  Bourbon 
has  won  her,  as  I  fear  he  has,  I  want  to  save  her, 
but  in  a  more  kindly  way.  No  one  can  make  her 
understand  what  he  is  as  you  can,  but  go  to  her 
privately  and  tell  her  all  that  you  have  to  dis 
close." 

"  I  am  thinking  of  something  besides  the  girl," 
Camille  said  impatiently.  "  I  want  to  see  Bourbon 
disgraced,  humiliated.  He  deserves  something  more 
than  punishment  and  disappointment  in  secret." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true,"  Janos  said  with  a  thrill  of 
satisfaction,  "  but  if  you  denounce  him  publicly, 
aren't  you  afraid  that  he  will  leave  you  forever?  " 

"  No,  he  can't,  for  he  hasn't  a  dollar  that  he  can 
call  his  own.  I  have  been  supporting  him  for  a 
long  time  and  he  knows  that  if  he  leaves  me,  he  must 


THE    FLAME  183 

acknowledge  to  the  world  that  he  is  a  beggar.  He 
has  no  other  way  of  getting  money."  She  scorn 
fully  smiled. 

A  look  of  abhorrence  and  disgust  crossed  Feleki's 
face,  but  he  said: 

"  If  you  are  determined  to  denounce  him  publicly, 
find  some  other  place  in  which  to  do  it.  Let  her 
hear  of  it,  read  of  it  in  the  newspapers,  but  don't 
let  her  see  it.  It  would  be  cruel  and  unnecessary." 

Camille  shrugged,  but  did  not  answer. 

"  You  will  think  of  some  other  way,  won't  you?  " 
he  anxiously  asked. 

"  If  I  can.  Paris  knows  him,  and  I  want  America 
to  understand  what  kind  of  a  man  is  his  exalted 
Highness,  the  Prince  de  Bourbon,"  she  sneered. 

Janos  studied  her  with  a  throbbing  heart.  The 
defiance,  fire,  energy  of  her  young  days  were  still 
apparent,  and  strengthened. 

Camille  could  not  endure  his  steady  gaze,  and  rising, 
turned  to  the  center  table  and  began  nervously  to 
handle  some  of  the  ornaments. 

He  rose  and  went  towards  her.  "  You  under 
stand,  don't  you,  that  I  am  with  you  for  success  in 
whatever  you  undertake?  It  will  be  a  noble  deed, 
if  it  is  rightly  done."  He  hesitated,  then  held  out 
his  hand. 

Camille,  forgetful  of  all  else,  turned  and  seized  it. 

"  Janos !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  a  quivering  tone,  and 
bending,  kissed  his  hand.  Her  lips  lingered  a  mo 
ment. 

"  This  is  indeed  a  touching  scene !  "  said  an  angry 
voice,  vibrant  with  cutting  sarcasm. 


184  THE     FLAME 

Camille  drew  up  and  swung  round. 
Jean  Marie  stood  in  the  bedroom  door,  his  eyes 
ablaze. 

After  leaving  Camille  the  day  before,  the  thought 
of  ridding  himself  of  her  had  not  left  Jean  Marie. 
At  first  ridding  himself  of  her  had  had  a  rather 
vague  meaning  in  his  mind.  It  meant  only  the  end, 
but  he  had  not  decided  what  "  the  end  "  would  be. 
Yet  not  many  hours  had  passed  before  he  had  made 
a  definite  plan.  He  always  carried  with  him  a  small 
vial  of  cyanide  of  potassium.  He  had  kept  the 
poison,  because  he  was  what  he  styled  "  a  man  of  re 
sources,"  and  he  felt  a  repulsion  for  firearms. 

After  making  his  decision  in  preference  for  Gwen 
dolyn's  fortune,  he  did  not  change  although  the  long 
ing  for  Camille  kept  returning,  and  it  shocked  him 
to  know  that  he  was  planning  to  take  her  life. 
Would  Gwendolyn's  millions  lose  any  of  their  charm 
when  Camille  would  be  cold  in  death?  Jean  Marie 
shuddered  and  realized  that  he  could  not  quiet  his 
longing  for  her,  but  he  fought  the  fascination,  he 
paced  the  floor,  and  he  audibly  ridiculed  himself  for 
his  folly.  A  hundred  times  he  asked  himself,  "  What 
is  one  woman  compared  with  wealth?  "  and  he  would 
not  listen  to  the  murmur  in  his  heart.  He  kept  re 
peating,  "  I  don't  love  her !  It  is  only  a  mad  intoxi 
cation."  He  had  reasoned  with  himself,  struggled 
with  himself,  and  roused  his  determination  to  such  a 
tension  that,  until  he  paused  to  reflect,  he  was  con 
vinced  that  wealth  was  all  he  cared  for  on  earth.  He 


THE     FLAME  185 

would  not  let  himself  see  the  vision  of  Camille  cold, 
white,  and  forever  still. 

When  he  could  forget  her  charm,  he  reveled  in  the 
anticipation  of  returning  to  Paris  with  millions,  and 
he  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  being  forced  to  go 
back  penniless,  as  he  must  if  he  yielded  to  Camille's 
fascination.  He  was  too  proud  to  work  in  America 
and  thus  throw  a  plebeian  stain  upon  his  great  name. 
The  Latin  Quarter  was  preferable  to  that. 

All  night  he  weighed  the  preference  between  the 
woman  and  the  fortune,  and  he  knew  that  wealth 
would  give  him  a  lasting  benefit. 

In  the  morning,  he  decided  to  go  and  see  Camille, 
because  he  could  not  let  her  suspect  that  he  had 
changed.  He  wished  that  he  could  keep  away  from 
her  until  the  final  day,  but  this  would  not  be  good 
policy.  He  intended  to  kill  her  while  Feleki  was  in 
the  city ;  then  he  would  tell  of  her  early  love  for  the 
violinist  and  start  the  rumor  that  desperation  and 
despondency  had  caused  her  to  take  her  own  life. 
He  went  to  her  hotel  feeling  that  he  had  control  of 
himself.  She  had  sealed  her  own  doom  and  he  was 
not  to  blame  for  what  she  had  forced  upon  him. 
What  right  had  a  woman  of  low  birth  to  defy  him? 
Had  he  not  the  privilege  to  cast  off  a  cafe  singer 
whenever  it  would  suit  his  pleasure?  Other  men  had 
taken  women  from  the  Latin  Quarter  and  deserted 
them  when  they  were  no  longer  alluring.  Why 
should  not  he?  She  was  vastly  overstepping  the 
limits  of  her  power.  He  fired  himself  with  resent 
ment,  and  when  he  reached  the  corridor  leading  to 


186  THE     FLAME 

her  rooms,  he  felt  that  he  was  master  of  the  situa 
tion. 

On  coming  to  her  bedroom  door,  he  found  it  open 
and  the  room  empty.  He  entered  just  as  Camille 
exclaimed,  "  Janos !  "  The  ardor  and  grief  in  her 
voice  overturned  Jean  Marie's  reason,  and  with  a 
torrent  of  insane  jealousy  sweeping  through  him,  he 
bounded  to  the  door  and  confronted  them. 

When  Camille  whirled  round  and  saw  him,  she 
shrank  away  from  Janos.  How  much  of  their  con 
versation  had  Jean  Marie  overheard? 

Feleki  drew  himself  up  and  coldly  surveyed  the 
Prince,  who,  with  a  struggle  to  master  himself,  came 
forward,  saying,  sneeringly: 

"  I  trust  I  have  not  interrupted  a  private  tete-a- 
tete." 

"  No,  I  was  about  to  leave."  Feleki  spoke  calmly ; 
his  nerves  suddenly  had  become  steady. 

Camille  saw  nothing  but  jealousy  in  Jean  Marie's 
eyes  and  it  partly  reassured  her.  Ignoring  his  pres 
ence,  she  turned  to  Janos  and  said: 

"  Good-by.     I'll  not  detain  you  any  longer." 

He  graciously  bowed,  and  taking  up  his  hat,  went 
towards  the  door.  As  he  reached  it,  he  turned  to 
Jean  Marie  and  made  a  formal  inclination  of  his 
head. 

Camille   opened  the  door  for  him. 

In  Jean  Marie's  jealous  madness,  he  imagined  that 
he  detected  a  look  of  sympathetic  understanding  be 
tween  Camille  and  Janos.  All  of  his  pent-up  emo 
tion,  the  struggle  that  he  had  had  with  himself,  his 
desperation  at  losing  Camille,  were  ignited  by  this 


THE     FLAME  187 

imaginary  glance  and  burned  within  him  like  a  rag 
ing  fire.  With  an  oath,  he  dashed  towards  Feleki, 
who  had  stepped  out  into  the  corridor,  but  before  he 
could  reach  him,  Camille  closed  the  door  and  threw 
herself  against  it. 

"  By  God,  I'll  — "     Jean  Marie  caught  his  breath. 

"You'll  what?  Make  a  scene?  If  you  do,  I'll 
have  you  arrested."  Her  proud  head  was  raised 
with  cold  defiance. 

"  So,  you  would  rob  me  of  the  Rolfe  millions  while 
you  are  trying  to  ensnare  Feleki ! "  Jean  Marie 
stood  threateningly  before  her. 

She  laughed,  tauntingly.  "  Then  you  acknowl 
edge  that  you  are  playing  to  win  them ! " 

He  drew  a  hard  breath. 

"  No.     I  am  referring  to  the  fables  of  yesterday." 

She  laughed  again.  "  Do  you  think  I'm  such  a 
fool,  Jean?" 

"  Are  you  trying  to  re-awaken  Feleki's  love  for 
you  ?  "  he  hotly  demanded. 

"  Oh,  you  are  jealous!  "  she  exclaimed  with  play 
ful  amusement,  "  but  you  needn't  be,  because  I'm 
not  unfaithful  to  you."  Tipping  back  her  head,  she 
looked  mockingly  at  him  through  her  long  lashes,  and 
then,  with  serpentine  grace,  went  close  to  him. 
"  Don't  be  afraid  that  you'll  lose  me,  Jean,  because 
you  won't, —  you  can't !  "  she  sweetly  said,  and  puck 
ering  her  full,  red  lips,  enticingly  held  them  up  to 
him. 

His  resolution  to  accept  Gwendolyn's  fortune  was 
consumed  and  forgotten  in  the  witchery  of  her 
beauty.  He  could  not  see  beyond  her  ardent  eyes 


188  THE     FLAME 

and  alluring  lips,  and  was  disarmed  by  the  force  of 
her  magnetic  personality.  Her  fascinating  gaze 
drew  and  held  him,  and  with  a  hoarse,  broken  ex 
clamation,  he  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  roughly 
crushed  her  to  his  heart. 

"  Jean ! "  she  murmured  with  a  fervid  little  thrill 
in  her  voice,  and  her  arms  stole  round  him. 

Suddenly,  with  an  oath,  he  wrenched  himself  from 
her  grasp,  and  seizing  his  hat,  but  forgetting  his 
cane,  which  he  had  dropped,  flung  open  the  door 
and  hurried  from  the  room,  violently  shutting  the 
door  behind  him. 

Camille  watched  him  with  startled  surprise,  but 
when  he  was  gone,  she  threw  herself  on  the  couch 
and  laughed  aloud  with  sarcasm  and  victory. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

JEAN  MARIE  hurried  on  through  the  corridor, 
maddened,  not  only  with  disgust  for  his  weak 
ness,  but  with  the  realization  of  Camille's  bewitching 
power  over  him.  Why  had  he  not  the  strength  to 
resist  her  enchantment?  Why  did  he  allow  her  per 
sonality  to  dominate  him?  In  a  rage,  he  went  back 
to  the  Fairmont,  knowing  that  he  had  made  a  fool  of 
himself,  and,  although  he  had  not  heard  Camille's 
laughter,  he  could  feel  the  sting  of  it,  for  he  knew 
she  would  ridicule  him. 

Feleki's  call  on  Camille  gave  Jean  Marie  a  pre 
sentiment  of  danger.  He  believed  that  he  under 
stood  Janos  well  enough  to  know  that  it  was  not 
love  that  was  making  him  seek  her  again.  He  was 
positive  that  Camille  had  been  the  cause  of  this  meet 
ing.  Perhaps  she  believed  that  Jean  Marie  had  won 
Gwendolyn  and  she  had  asked  Feleki  to  help  her 
make  the  Prince's  marriage  impossible.  If  this  were 
true,  Feleki  had  now  the  opportunity  to  avenge  him 
self  for  the  wrong  that  Jean  Marie  had  done  him 
and  Camille. 

The  Prince  could  not  understand  Camille.  For 
the  first  time  since  they  had  been  together,  he  began 
to  doubt  the  sincerity  of  her  love  for  him.  He  had 
a  sudden  fear  that  her  first  meeting  with  Janos  in 
.San  Francisco  had  re-awakened  the  old  love  that 

189 


190  THE     FLAME 

Jean  Marie  had  believed  was  dead.  If  his  supposi 
tion  were  true,  he  was  in  a  desperate  situation,  stand 
ing  between  two  advancing  fires,  without  a  way  of 
escape.  Feleki  had  free  access  to  the  Rolfe  home 
and  he  had  the  advantage  of  Richard's  friendship, 
which  Jean  Marie  knew  that  he  himself  had  not. 

It  would  be  of  no  use  for  him  to  take  Camille's 
life  while  Feleki  was  in  the  city.  If  she  were  con 
spiring  against  Jean  Marie  and  Feleki  had  lent  him 
self  to  her  scheme,  he  would  be  more  determined  than 
ever  to  ruin  the  Prince,  because,  although  Janos 
never  could  prove  it,  he  would  believe  that  Jean 
Marie  had  been  the  cause  of  her  death.  But  how 
long  must  he  wait  before  Feleki  would  leave  the  city? 
Janos  had  said  one  night  in  the  Rolfe  home  that  he 
would  not  begin  his  concert  tour  until  December, 
when  he  would  appear  in  New  York.  It  was  now 
only  the  first  week  in  July,  and  he  might  remain 
these  six  months  in  San  Francisco.  If  he  did,  Jean 
Marie  knew  that  these  months  would  be  lost  to  him, 
because  he  now  must  be  careful  and  not  manifest  in 
Feleki's  presence  anything  deeper  than  friendship 
for  Gwendolyn.  And  during  this  wasted  time,  Jean 
Marie  was  in  danger  of  losing  his  influence  over  her, 
because  he  surmised  that  Richard  was  encouraging 
Cavarodossi  to  pay  court  to  his  sister,  and  Mario 
was  a  rival  to  be  feared,  especially  since  he  had 
proved  himself  either  too  shrewd  or  too  noble  to 
yield  to  Camille's  fascination. 

Jean  Marie  writhed  inwardly  when  he  thought  that 
he  must  for  some  time  take  money  from  Camille.  It 
was  not  outraged  honor  that  rebelled  against  accept- 


THE     FLAME  191 

ing  favors  from  her;  it  was  vanity,  because  he  be 
lieved  that  she  would  not  be  giving  with  her  former 
generous  love.  He  wondered  what  had  brought  her 
from  France.  Was  it  love,  or  desire  to  regain  the 
money  she  had  given  him,  or  had  she  suspected  by 
his  months  of  silence  that  he  was  planning  to  betray 
her  trust  in  his  promise  not  to  marry  an  heiress,  but 
to  earn  money  and  send  for  her  to  come  to  him  in 
America?  It  could  not  have  been  love  altogether 
that  had  brought  her  to  San  Francisco,  because  she 
had  belittled  him  here  as  she  never  had  in  Paris. 
He  could  not  forget  how  she  had  given  him  money  to 
pay  for  his  paintings  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Walsh, 
the  art  dealer.  In  France  she  never  had  so  humili 
ated  him.  She  always  had  been  dangerous  and  he 
always  had  been  on  the  alert  for  her  unexpected 
moods  and  caprices,  but  never  had  she  publicly  ex 
posed  his  poverty  and  dependence  upon  her. 

The  fears  and  doubts  that  were  swarming  his 
mind  set  his  emotions  in  a  turmoil  and  he  knew  that 
he  must  control  himself,  for  Gwendolyn  had  invited 
him  to  dinner  and  he  dared  not  let  her  suspect  his 
agitation.  He  stood  rigid  for  a  moment  and  drew 
his  muscles  to  a  tension,  then  slowly  and  deliberately 
he  went  into  his  bedroom  and  took  a  glass  of  absinthe. 
He  combed  his  hair  with  great  precision,  re-arranged 
his  cravat,  and  brushed  his  clothes.  Fran£ois  was 
not  present.  When  he  was  ready  to  leave,  he  looked 
for  his  cane,  and  angrily  remembered  that  he  had  left 
it  in  Camille's  apartments.  He  started  off  for  a 
brisk  walk  and  it  was  more  than  an  hour  later  that  he 
went  to  his  club  for  luncheon.  His  friends  never  had 


192  THE     FLAME 

seen  him  more  amiable  and  jovial,  but  any  one  who 
knew  him  well  would  have  known  that  his  merriment 
was  forced.  Dubois  thought  that  he  detected  a  false 
ring  in  his  gayety,  but  asked  no  questions.  Perhaps 
His  Highness  was  angry  with  Camille.  He  might  be 
jealous,  and  Dubois  wondered  with  some  anxiety  if 
he  were  the  unhappy  cause,  but  the  Prince's  friendly 
manner  soon  reassured  him. 

"  I  saw  you  the  other  day  with  a  very  beautiful 
•woman,"  said  a  gentleman  to  Jean  Marie.  "  I  think 
she  was  French." 

"  Yes  ?  "  The  Prince  elevated  his  brows  with  mild, 
inquiring  surprise,  but  he  slightly  reddened. 

Another  gentleman,  noticing  this,  said  with  a  sly 
smile :  "  Yes,  rumor  has  it  that  the  fair  lady  has 
ensnared  you  completely." 

The  man  was  jesting,  but  Jean  Marie  did  not  per 
ceive  that.  His  heart  gave  a  sudden  throb,  and  he 
soon  left  with  another  fear  added  to  his  burden.  He 
never  again  would  be  seen  with  Camille  in  public. 
Suppose  Mr.  Rolfe  should  hear  of  her! 

It  was  half  after  three  when  he  went  to  dress  for 
dinner.  He  did  not  know  whether  there  were  to  be 
other  guests  at  Gwendolyn's  home,  and  he  intended 
to  arrive  early,  that  he  might  have  an  opportunity 
to  see  her  alone  and  strengthen  her  love  for  him  by 
still  more  strongly  and  poetically  expressing  his 
adoration  for  her.  He  was  very  particular  how 
Fran9ois  dressed  him,  and  the  valet  was  puzzled  to 
understand  what  it  could  be  that  was  making  the 
Prince  so  irritable  of  late.  It  was  an  alarming  sign 


THE     FLAME  193 

when  His  Highness  lost  his  amiability  for  any  length 
of  time. 

When  the  butler  admitted  Jean  Marie,  he  told  him 
that  Gwendolyn  was  not  at  home,  but  that  Mr.  Rolfe 
had  just  come  in,  and  he  took  the  Prince  into  the 
library,  where  Richard  was  reading.  Jean  Marie 
made  some  forcible  comments  mentally,  but  as  this 
was  the  first  time  that  he  and  Richard  had  been  alone 
together,  he  must  make  a  favorable  impression. 

"  I  trust  I  am  not  interrupting  an  interesting 
story,"  he  said,  going  forward,  and  giving  Richard 
a  cordial  handshake. 

"  No.  I  was  studying  rather  than  reading.  It 
is  a  constant  work  for  a  business  man  to  keep  posted 
on  the  many  questions  that  are  always  coming  up. 
I  am  studying  law  at  present." 

Richard's  sharp  gray  eyes  rested  searchingly  upon 
Jean  Marie's  dapper  form  and  he  wondered  what  it 
was  about  this  dainty  exquisite  that  attracted  Gwen 
dolyn.  There  was  nothing  effeminate  about  Jean 
Marie,  but  to  Richard,  with  his  rugged  strength  and 
American  vigor  and  bluntness,  he  seemed  rather  a 
toy  than  a  man.  He  could  not  understand  why  his 
sister  did  not  prefer  Cavarodossi  with  his  robust, 
commanding  physique  and  his  handsome,  noble  face. 
Richard  never  had  met  a  man  whom  he  liked  better 
than  Cavarodossi,  because  Mario  seemed  to  him  a 
hardy  American  with  a  European  "  polish."  But 
perhaps  there  were  manly  traits  in  Jean  Marie's 
character  that  he  had  not  observed.  "  I'll  sound 
him,"  he  thought,  "  and  see  if  he  rings  true." 


194  THE    FLAME 

Jean  Marie,  standing  by  the  massive  center  table, 
daintily  turned  the  pages  of  the  book  that  Richard 
had  laid  down.  His  slender  white  hands  strongly 
contrasted  with  Richard's,  and  the  sturdy  American 
realized  more  than  ever  before  that  there  never  could 
be  a  sympathetic  feeling  between  the  Prince  and  him 
self.  The  racial  difference  was  too  evident ;  the  be 
liefs  and  the  self-centered  education  of  the  nobleman 
were  too  dissimilar  to  that  of  the  true  American  for 
a  harmonious  understanding  ever  to  exist.  As  Rich 
ard  studied  Jean  Marie,  he  knew  there  was  no  bridge 
for  the  republican  to  cross  that  would  bring  him  into 
the  heart  of  the  royalist.  The  barrier  was  insur 
mountable.  Even  the  way  in  which  Jean  Marie 
dropped  into  the  chair  near  Richard,  showed  an  in 
dolence  and  a  lack  of  purpose  in  life.  Mr.  Rolfe 
knew  that  to  the  Prince  existence  had  no  deeper  mean 
ing  than  personal  pleasure. 

"  This  must  be  uninteresting  reading,"  Jean  Marie 
said,  with  a  languid  smile. 

"  Yes,  but  we  can't  always  cater  to  our  tastes.  I 
know  you  regret  not  seeing  my  sister.  She  has  gone 
to  the  matinee." 

"  Oh !  "  It  was  a  mild  exclamation,  but  Jean 
Marie  was  disgusted.  He  must  remain  alone  with 
Richard  for  at  least  a  half  hour.  "  Miss  Rolfe  is 
a  charming  girl  and  you  must  be  very  proud  of  her," 
he  earnestly  added,  dropping  his  slight  drawl. 

Richard  sighed.      "  Yes,  poor  girl,  she  is  sweet." 

Jean  Marie  glanced  at  him  with  surprise.  "  Poor 
girl !  "  he  echoed.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  she  is  more 
to  be  envied  than  pitied." 


T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E  195 

"  One  would  think  so,  but  she  sometimes  comes  in 
contact  with  people  who  are  destined  to  bring  her  un- 
happiness." 

Jean  Marie  shot  him  a  quick  look.  "  Is  she  so 
unfortunate?  I  don't  understand." 

Richard  was  idly  toying  with  a  paper-cutter,  and 
his  eyes  rested  upon  Jean  Marie  without  any  accus 
ing  light  in  them,  as  he  answered :  "  She  is  unfor 
tunate  in  always  having  some  mercenary  suitor  after 
her.  It  makes  the  poor  girl  wretched  at  times,  es 
pecially  when  someone  in  whom  she  has  faith  proves 
false." 

Jean  Marie  was  entirely  unprepared  for  this  blunt 
response,  and  for  a  moment  he  did  not  know  how  to 
answer. 

"  There  are  so  many  sincere  people  in  the  world, 
Mr.  Rolfe,  that  I  think  their  virtues  atone  for  the 
vices  in  others,"  he  presently  said. 

"  That  may  be,  but  for  a  sensitive  girl  like  Gwen 
dolyn  it  is  hard  to  battle  with  the  disagreeable  things 
in  life.  She  is  too  trusting." 

Jean  Marie  shrugged  with  uncertainty.  "  She  is 
very  young  and  will  soon  learn."  But  he  hoped  that 
she  would  not. 

"  I  don't  want  her  knowledge  to  come  through  a 
bitter  experience,  as  I  fear  it  must." 

Richard's  frank  tone  had  not  changed,  but  Jean 
Marie  was  most  uncomfortable,  for  he  believed  there 
was  a  personal  thrust  in  Richard's  words. 

"  You  are  so  occupied,  Mr.  Rolfe,  that  I  suppose 
it  is  hard  for  you  to  give  her  the  care  she  needs. 
Perhaps  she  will  marry  before  long  and  thus  relieve 


196  THEFLAME 

you  of  all  responsibility."  Jean  Marie  regretted 
that  he  had  let  a  tinge  of  sarcasm  slip  into  his  voice. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  she  will  marry  and  I  hope  she 
doesn't  make  a  mistake."  There  was  a  vehement 
ring  in  Richard's  tone,  but  Jean  Marie  was  affected 
only  by  the  uncertainty  of  his  success. 

"  No  doubt  you  have  high  ambitions  for  her  mar 
riage,  but  don't  believe  that  you  are  going  to  find  a 
perfect  man  combined  with  an  exalted  position,  for 
all  of  us  are  human,  and  that  means  not  being  above 
temptation."  Jean  Marie's  expression  was  very 
grave. 

Richard  paused.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  I  have 
high  ambitions  for  her,  but  I  don't  think  you  under 
stand  them.  You  speak  of  an  exalted  position,  but 
I  have  no  such  thoughts  for  Gwendolyn's  future  hus 
band.  I  want  him  to  be  simply  a  good  man  and  not 
too  high  in  the  social  and  financial  world.  I'd  rather 
he'd  be  a  little  too  far  down  the  ladder,  if  there  must 
be  a  fault,  but  with  the  pluck  and  ability  to  make  his 
way  up.  I'm  a  staunch  admirer  of  the  middle-class 
men,  who  are  true,  courageous,  and  willing  to  fight 
a  battle  in  the  world.  There  is  a  place  for  every  one 
of  them,  and  they  are  all  heroes." 

Jean  Marie  sat  very  quiet,  his  lips  tightly  com 
pressed,  struggling  to  subdue  the  anger  that  was 
rising  within  him.  He  knew  Richard  had  told  him 
this  that  he  might  understand  that  he  never  would  be 
a  pleasing  and  suitable  brother-in-law,  but  he  laughed 
to  himself  with  exultant  sarcasm  when  he  thought 
how  he  would  defy  Richard  and  marry  Gwendolyn 
without  his  consent.  The  only  trouble  lay  in  Rich- 


THE     FLAME  197 

ard's  being  the  trustee  of  her  estate.  But  he  would 
marry  her!  She  loved  him,  and  he  knew  the  art  of 
enticement.  Did  this  simple  American  believe  he 
could  thwart  a  clever  Parisian  nobleman?  Jean 
Marie  checked  the  sneer  that  was  creeping  to  his 
lips. 

"  Why  do  you  wish  your  sister  to  marry  a  man 
who  would  be  beneath  her  and  yourself?  "  he  asked 
with  absolute  control. 

"  Such  a  man  as  I  have  described  would  not  be  be 
neath  me.  He  would  be  any  man's  equal." 

Jean  Marie  calmly  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

Richard  laughed.  "  Pardon  me !  I  should  not 
expect  you  to  agree  with  me  when  you  are  a  royalist 
and  I  a  republican.  I  fear  we  are  very  unlike  in 
every  way." 

Jean  Marie  raised  a  protesting  hand.  "  Not  so 
unlike  that  we  cannot  harmonize  and  become  staunch 
friends,  I  hope."  The  Prince  spoke  in  his  most  win 
ning  manner. 

Richard  politely  bowed.  "  Thank  you,  but  how 
are  we  to  begin?  Are  you  willing  to  yield  to  me, 
or  are  you  going  to  ask  me  to  surrender  to  you?  It 
will  be  an  awful  struggle  to  make  a  royalist  of  me. 
I  am  stubbornly  loyal  to  my  colors." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  renounce  your  colors,  Mr. 
Rolfe,  only  let  your  flag  have  vertical  stripes.  It 
would  signify  a  change  of  ideas." 

Richard  laughed  good-naturedly.  "  That  is  an 
impossibility,"  he  said. 

"  Then  there  can  be  no  truce  between  us  ?  "  Jean 
Marie  closely  eyed  him. 


198  THE     FLAME 

Richard  hesitated.  "Well,  I  don't  know  that 
there  need  be  war,  exactly.  But  why  don't  you  try 
your  hand  at  being  an  American?  Invest  your 
money  over  here  and  learn  to  be  a  business  man. 
It's  steady  work  and  sometimes  a  little  monotonous, 
but,  take  it  as  a  whole,  it  is  a  jolly  good  occupa 
tion." 

Jean  Marie  eyed  him  with  surprise  and  disgust. 
His  Highness,  the  Prince  de  Bourbon,  to  become  a 
bourgeois  !  The  idea  was  preposterous.  Then,  with 
another  quick  glance  at  Richard,  he  wondered  if  he 
were  being  ridiculed.  But  if  Richard  suspected  that 
he  was  penniless,  there  was  no  hint  of  it  in  his  face. 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you,  Mr.  Rolfe,  about  its 
being  a  jolly  occupation.  I  never  could  be  as  clever 
as  you.  I  think  one  must  be  born  with  a  gift  for  fig 
ures  and  a  love  for  commerce." 

"  What  would  you  do  if  you  should  lose  your 
money?  That  would  be  the  time  that  our  middle- 
class  man  would  step  into  the  field  and  win." 

Jean  Marie  carelessly  shrugged.  "  I'll  trust  to 
luck." 

Richard  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "  You  never 
will  be  a  republican,  but  Cavarodossi  is  one.  He 
said  the  other  day  that  the  first  thing  a  man  should 
do  is  to  learn  how  to  make  a  living,  so,  if  he  ever  is 
forced  to  fall  back  upon  his  own  resources,  he  can 
support  a  wife  and  family.  And  that  is  my  opin 
ion.  We  never  can  tell  when  Fate  is  going  to  trick 
us." 

"  Really,  Mr.  Rolfe,  you  are  quite  a  bourgeois !  " 
Jean  Marie  laughed  lightly.  He  was  positive  now 


THE     FLAME  199 

that  Richard  was  politely  informing  him  that  he  need 
not  pay  court  to  Gwendolyn,  and  he  knew  also  that 
Richard  wished  him  to  understand  that  Cavarodossi 
was  the  preferred  suitor.  Jean  Marie  thought  again 
of  these  six  critical  months  that  he  must  lose  if  Feleki 
remained  in  the  city,  and  his  anger  leaped  into  a 
flame,  but  he  smothered  it.  He  never  could  win 
Richard ;  he  must  work  to  vanquish  him. 

"  You  may  call  me  anything  you  wish,"  Richard 
said,  good-naturedly.  "  I  don't  try  to  disguise  the 
fact  that  I'm  not  an  aristocrat,  and  Gwendolyn 
wasn't  educated  to  be  one  either.  Like  all  girls,  she 
admires  a  true  cavalier,  but  she  is  a  full-fledged  dem 
ocrat  at  heart."  Richard  turned  towards  the  door. 
"  I  think  I  hear  her  now,  so  I'll  leave  you  and  dress 
for  dinner.  She'll  be  here  in  a  moment."  He  rose 
and  started  from  the  room.  "  I'm  glad  we  have  had 
this  little  chat,"  he  said,  turning  back.  "  It  has 
been  very  pleasant,  and  I  think  we  understand  each 
other  better." 

Jean  Marie  rose.  "  Yes,  I  think  we  do,"  he 
suavely  said,  giving  his  most  courtly  bow,  but  as 
Richard  disappeared,  he  clenched  his  fists  and  mut 
tered  :  "  Imbecile !  "  He  was  now  figuring  on  a 
triple  revenge.  Richard,  Janos  and  Camille  were  to 
be  the  victims. 


CHAPTER  XV 

WHILE  Feleki  was  in  the  city,  Gwendolyn  was 
anxious  to  give  a  musicale  at  her  home  to 
which  she  could  invite  two  hundred  or  more  of  her 
acquaintances.  Richard  advised  her  to  make  ar 
rangements  for  the  entertainment  at  once,  because  it 
was  uncertain  how  long  the  violinist  would  remain  in 
San  Francisco.  Mr.  Rolfe  knew  that  geniuses  are 
erratic  and  he  would  not  have  been  surprised  to  hear 
at  any  time  that  Feleki  had  suddenly  left. 

Gwendolyn  did  not  tell  Jean  Marie  of  her  plans 
for  the  musicale.  She  wished  to  surprise  him  and 
told  only  Richard  of  the  programme  she  was  arrang 
ing  and  the  number  of  artists  who  were  to  perform. 
For  a  week  she  had  been  working  on  the  programme, 
selecting  and  combining  the  numbers  she  thought 
would  be  the  most  effective. 

It  was  the  morning  after  Mr.  Rolfe's  conversa 
tion  with  Jean  Marie,  and  Richard,  feeling  very  well 
satisfied  with  himself  and  the  unpleasant  impression 
he  knew  that  he  had  made  upon  the  Prince,  sat  in  the 
conservatory,  reading  the  newspaper.  Gwendolyn 
entered,  bringing  her  programme. 

"  Look,  Dick,"  she  said,  giving  him  the  paper,  and 
sitting  on  the  footstool  by  his  chair.  "  What  do 
you  think  of  this?  Can  you  suggest  an  improve 
ment?  " 

Laying  aside  his  newspaper,  he  gave  the  pro- 
200 


THE    FLAME  201 

gramme  his  serious  attention.  He  had  no  knowledge 
of  music,  but  was  pleased  by  her  faith  in  his  judg 
ment.  With  childlike  affection  and  trust,  she  laid 
her  pretty  blonde  head  against  his  arm  while  he  read. 
For  a  moment  his  eyes  rested  lovingly  upon  her  deli 
cate  profile  and  her  golden  curls,  and  he  felt  a  tight 
ening  in  his  throat,  realizing  that  this  dubious  French 
nobleman  was  designing  to  rob  him  of  his  little  sister. 
He  knew  it  was  not  love  that  was  making  the  Prince 
seek  her.  Without  any  fear,  he  could  give  her  into 
Cavarodossi's  keeping,  but  Bourbon's  —  He  closed 
his  eyes  and  frowned. 

"  This  is  very  interesting,"  he  presently  said,  "  and 
I  congratulate  you."  He  slipped  his  arm  round  her 
and  she  looked  up  and  smiled. 

"  I'm  glad  you  like  it.  I  have  asked  Mr.  Cavaro- 
dossi  to  sing.  At  first  he  refused,  saying  that  he  is 
only  a  musical  dilettante,  but  I  coaxed  and  begged, 
and  finally  he  consented." 

"  He  would  do  anything  for  you,  Gwen."  Rich 
ard  gave  her  an  expressive  glance. 

She  blushed.  "  Well,  he  has  promised  and  I  know 
he'll  keep  his  word.  I  have  arranged  for  all  the 
artists,  but  I  can't  decide  on  a  soprano.  I  asked 
Mr.  Cavarodossi  if  he  knows  of  any  one  who  could 
sing  the  operatic  arias  I  have  selected,  but  he  doesn't. 
He  thinks  that  I  had  better  engage  a  soprano  from 
the  opera  company,  if  I  can.  What  would  you  do, 
Dick?" 

"  '  A  scene  from  "  La  Tosca  "  for  tenor  and  so 
prano  and  a  duet  from  "  Rigoletto  "  for  soprano  and 
baritone,'  "  he  read. 


202  THE     FLAME 

"  Yes,"  broke  in  Gwendolyn,  "  and  I  want  the  so 
prano  to  sing,  '  My  heart  at  thy  sweet  voice  opens 
wide  like  the  flowers  which  the  morn's  kisses  waken,' 
from  '  Samson  and  Delilah.'  That  is  such  a  beauti 
ful,  appealing  aria.  It  will  require  a  woman  with  a 
splendid  voice." 

"  Suppose  I  talk  with  Cavarodossi's  friend,  De  Lu 
cia.  I  see  you  have  his  name  down  here  for  three 
Neapolitan  songs.  He  may  know  of  some  soprano ; 
if  he  doesn't,  he  may  be  able  to  make  arrangements 
with  one  of  the  opera  singers.  He  is  around  the 
theater  every  night  and  knows  all  the  artists." 

"  Yes,  do  ask  him,"  Gwendolyn  quickly  said.  "  I'll 
give  him  charge  of  the  programme  and  he  can  en 
gage  all  the  performers." 

"  Very  well.  I'll  take  my  luncheon  to-day  at  the 
Italian  restaurant  where  he  usually  goes,  and  if  I 
see  him,  I'll  give  him  this  programme  and  let  him 
make  the  arrangements." 

"Do  you  think  I  have  allowed  time  enough?" 
Gwendolyn  asked. 

"  Surely !  A  week  is  sufficient,  and  will  have  to 
be,  since  you  have  sent  out  your  invitations,"  he 
laughed. 

"  Won't  it  be  lovely !  "  She  gleefully  clapped  her 
hands.  "  This  is  the  largest  musicale  I  ever  have 
undertaken.  Of  course  Monsieur  Feleki  will  be  the 
greatest  attraction,  and  I  hope  he  will  feel  in  the 
mood  to  play  !  " 

"  I  have  no  fear  for  him,"  returned  Richard. 
'*  The  only  uncertain  one  is  Bourbon.  He  seems  to 
be  growing  capricious  of  late.  Wasn't  he  uninter- 


THE     FLAME  203 

esting  last  night?  He  appears  to  have  something 
troublesome  on  his  mind.  Did  he  tell  you  any 
thing?  " 

"  No,  but  he  was  rather  quiet,  wasn't  he  ?  "  Anx 
iety  was  in  Gwendolyn's  voice  and  her  troubled  eyes 
looked  up  searchingly  into  Richard's  face.  "  I  won 
der  what  can  be  the  matter?  " 

"  It  is  hard  to  surmise.  Noblemen  seem  to  have 
a  knack  for  getting  into  scrapes.  They  are  so  self 
ish  and  egotistical.  Nobility  isn't  to  my  liking. 
These  royal  chaps  have  the  ego  too  highly  devel 
oped.  Perhaps  Bourbon  is  hard  up.  He  may  be 
wanting  to  borrow  from  you,  Gwen.  But  look 
out !  He  could  swallow  a  million  easier  than  he  could 
a  pill." 

"  Oh,  Dick !  "  exclaimed  Gwendolyn.  "  Don't  be 
foolish!  Of  course  he  doesn't  need  money." 

Richard  shrugged.  "  Time  will  tell,"  he  said. 
"  But  be  careful,  Gwen.  He  is  amiable  and  courte 
ous,  but  I  feel  he's  dangerous.  There  is  something 
too  suave  in  his  manner.  Just  compare  him  to  Cav- 
arodossi !  There's  a  vast  difference.  Bourbon  is 
too  sweet  and  affable  to  be  sincere.  You  think  I  am 
suspicious,  Gwen,  and  perhaps  it  is  a  fault  of  mine, 
but  I'd  rather  make  a  mistake  that  way  than  be  too 
trusting.  Don't  forget  that  he  is  a  royalist,  and 
between  us  there  is  a  sea  of  blood  for  our  cause. 
Don't  cross  that  sea,  Gwen,  and  show  a  disregard,  a 
lack  of  appreciation,  for  our  martyrs  and  heroes. 
We  are  not  true  Americans  if  we  ally  ourselves  with 
foreign  nobility.  High-sounding  titles  and  musty 
palaces  shouldn't  dazzle  us.  We  have  fought  for 


204  THE    FLAME 

our  freedom,  and  we  mustn't  show  ourselves  to  be 
backsliders  by  courting  our  vanquished  foe, —  royal 
oppression.  Most  of  these  noblemen  do  not  feel  a 
true  respect  for  us;  they  can't,  because  for  genera 
tions  they  have  been  taught  to  look  down  on  a  '  com 
moner,'  and  this  disrespect  is  born  in  them;  it  is  an 
inheritance.  They  love  our  money,  and  perhaps 
some  of  them  in  these  advanced  days  really  do  love 
and  respect  us,  but  it  isn't  so  common  a  thing  that 
we  can  have  faith  in  all  of  them." 

"  I  know  it,  Dick,  but  there  is  nothing  lofty  nor 
egotistical  about  the  Prince  de  Bourbon.  He  is  po 
lite  and  courteous  to  every  one." 

"  Yes,  but  I  can  feel  the  disdain  beneath  his  af 
fability,"  Richard  protested,  and  with  a  quick  burst 
of  feeling,  added :  "  It  is  plain  enough,  Gwen,  that 
he  is  trying  to  win  you,  but  don't  yield  to  him,  I 
beg.  You  can't  possibly  love  him;  the  difference  is 
too  great.  He  can  only  dazzle  you  and  arouse  your 
desire  to  live  in  the  romance  and  chivalry  of  the 
days  when  royalty  was  supreme.  He  can  thrill  you 
with  his  tales  of  mystery,  adventure  and  glory,  but 
this  isn't  love,  dear  girl;  it  is  a  play  on  your  im 
agination,  and  you  are  tempted  to  treat  it  as  a  re 
ality,  the  same  as  when  a  child  reads  fairy  tales, — 
it  has  a  vain  hope  that  fairies  and  goblins  really  do 
exist  and  it  loves  to  make  pictures  and  live  in  this 
imaginary,  roseate  world.  But  don't  be  beguiled  into 
this  dreamland,  Gwen.  You  would  soon  awaken  and 
find  that  you  could  not  be  happy  in  his  world.  His 
palaces  would  be  dungeons  and  the  authority  he 
would  assert  over  you  would  be  chains." 


THE     FLAME  205 

Gwendolyn  listened  with  a  mingling  of  sorrow 
and  reproach,  yet  in  her  inmost  heart  there  was  the 
apprehension  that  left  her  only  when  Jean  Marie 
was  present.  She  feared  that  Richard's  words  might 
be  true,  for  she  knew  the  Prince's  life  in  France 
must  be  very  different  from  her  American  home 
training,  but  Jean  Marie  was  sweet  and  gentle  and 
his  nature  seemed  incapable  of  harshness  or  tyranny. 
She  knew  that  Richard  understood  the  world  better 
than  she,  yet  she  felt  that  he  was  prejudiced  against 
Jean  Marie  and  was  unjust  to  him. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  let  myself  be  chained,"  she 
presently  said,  with  a  little  smile.  "  Don't  fear  for 
me,  Dick,  but  I  think  you  are  a  trifle  unkind  to  the 
Prince  de  Bourbon.  He  always  has  been  friendly 
with  you,  and  I  don't  see  that  he  ever  has  given  you 
a  cause  to  doubt  him." 

"  That  is  all  the  more  reason  why  you  should  lis 
ten  to  me,  since  it  is  instinct  that  makes  me  sus 
picious  of  him.  I  don't  want  to  preach  to  you, 
Gwen,  only  be  careful,  and  don't  be  afraid  to  ana 
lyze  and  dissect  this  whole  affair.  Have  you  abso 
lute  faith  in  him?  " 

Gwendolyn  hesitated  and  looked  away.  Richard 
felt  a  sudden  thrill.  The  Prince  had  not  won  her 
completely. 

"  I  think,  Dick,"  she  said  slowly  and  f alteringly, 
"  that  there  always  is  a  strange  feeling  where  a  for 
eigner  is  concerned.  What  shall  I  call  it?  A  feel 
ing  of  alienship,  perhaps.  Maybe  we  have  that 
doubt  or  anxiety,  or  whatever  it  is,  because  we  are 
of  a  different  race  and  education." 


206  THE     FLAME 

"  Does  Cavarodossi  inspire  you  with  any  doubt  or 
fear?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  she  slowly  admitted.  "  Somehow  he  seems 
different." 

"  Yes,  he  does,  and  you  must  seriously  analyze 
this  difference."  Richard  patted  Gwendolyn's 
cheeks,  and  glancing  at  his  watch,  rose.  "  I  must 
go  or  I'll  be  late  for  an  appointment.  Shall  I  take 
this  programme  and  give  it  to  De  Lucia?  " 

"  Yes,  and  tell  him  I  must  have  the  best  soprano 
he  can  secure.  Good-by ! "  She  threw  her  arms 
around  his  neck  and  kissed  him. 

When  she  was  alone,  she  dropped  into  the  chair 
Richard  had  left  and  she  did  analyze  and  dissect  the 
difference  between  Cavarodossi  and  Jean  Marie,  and 
her  better  judgment  gave  the  preference  to  Cavaro 
dossi,  while  her  romantic  nature  and  her  sentiment 
succumbed  to  Jean  Marie's  fascination. 

Towards  evening  Richard  telephoned  to  her  that 
De  Lucia  had  gladly  consented  to  take  charge  of  the 
programme  and  had  suggested  a  scprano  with  a 
brilliant  voice,  just  the  kind  Gwendolyn  wanted,  and 
Richard  was  going  with  him  after  dinner  to  hear  the 
woman  sing. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

JEAN  MARIE  could  not  forget  his  unsatisfac 
tory  meeting  with  Richard,  and  his  feeling  for 
the  American  had  ripened  into  the  most  bitter  hatred. 
He  knew  that  Gwendolyn's  character  had  not  yet 
matured,  and  he  wondered  whose  influence  would  be 
the  stronger  over  her,  his  or  her  brother's.  His 
vanity  as  well  as  his  desperate  need  of  her  fortune 
tempted  him  to  believe  that  his  power  would  be  the 
more  potent. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  day  following  his  dinner 
at  Gwendolyn's,  he  realized  with  renewed  determina 
tion  how  necessary  was  his  marriage  with  her.  He 
was  presented  with  two  bills  amounting  to  two  hun 
dred  and  fifty  dollars  for  clothes  and  motor-car  hire, 
and  he  had  not  the  money  with  which  to  pay.  Again 
he  must  go  to  Camille.  There  was  no  alternative. 
He  could  have  borrowed  from  Dubois,  and  the  little 
Frenchman  would  have  lent  gladly,  even  have  given 
this  sum  to  His  Highness  for  the  honor  of  favoring 
the  bearer  of  so  exalted  a  title,  but  Jean  Marie 
dared  not  expose  his  poverty  to  his  associates.  Du 
bois  might  have  some  intimate  friend  in  whom  he 
would  confide,  and  the  starting  of  a  rumor  concern 
ing  Jean  Marie's  poverty  would  mean  his  ruin.  Mr. 
Rolfe  would  soon  hear  of  it  and  cheerfully  believe  it. 

Jean  Marie's  first  thought  was  to  take  Camille 
207 


208  THE     FLAME 

out  to  dinner,  but  he  changed  his  mind,  realizing 
that  he  must  not  be  seen  with  her  in  public.  He  de 
cided  to  call  in  the  evening,  and  was  anxious  to  post 
pone  the  disagreeable  meeting  as  long  as  possible. 
He  expected  her  to  greet  him  with  sarcastic  amuse 
ment,  and  he  did  not  know  whether  he  could  control 
his  rage  and  humble  himself  to  ask  her  for  money. 

It  was  after  nine  o'clock  when  he  entered  Ca- 
mille's  hotel.  Pride  was  dragging  him  back  and  ne 
cessity  was  forcing  him  onward.  As  he  reached  the 
corridor  leading  to  her  rooms,  he  heard  her  voice 
ringing  out  with  all  its  passion  and  glory  in  an  aria 
from  "La  Tosca,"  "  Vissi  d'Arte."  He  abruptly 
halted  and  caught  his  breath.  There  was  a  new  ring 
of  triumph  in  her  voice.  Her  dashing,  brilliant  soul 
was  bursting  from  her  lips  without  restraint,  and 
Jean  Marie  could  feel  that  she  was  glorying  in  her 
power.  He  was  strangely  stirred  by  her  magnetism, 
as  he  stood  in  the  corridor,  wondering  whether  he 
should  go  on  or  turn  back.  But  her  voice  drew  him ; 
he  must  know  what  had  intensified  the  passion  in  her 
art.  As  the  song  ended,  a  quick  burst  of  applause 
greeted  her,  and  Jean  Marie  stood  still,  inwardly 
trembling,  but  curiosity  urged  him  on.  He  knocked 
on  her  door,  and  Celeste  opened  it. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  facing  the 
Prince,  stood  Richard  Rolfe.  Jean  Marie  blanched 
and  fell  back  a  step.  The  next  instant  he  had 
steadied  himself,  but  was  powerless  to  speak.  His 
first  thought  was  that  Richard  had  heard  of  the  ru 
mor  told  at  the  club,  that  Camille  had  ensnared  the 
Prince  completely.  Had  Mr.  Rolfe  sought  her  that 


THE     FLAME  209 

he  might  learn  the  truth?  Perspiration  broke  out 
on  Jean  Marie  and  he  turned  his  terrorized  eyes  on 
Camille.  She  shot  him  back  a  look  of  sarcastic  vic 
tory,  and  an  arch  smile  curved  her  red,  disdainful 
lips.  He  was  lost !  He  was  ruined  I  Defeat  forced 
his  chilled  blood  through  him  in  a  sickening  riot. 
He  saw  Camille  coming  towards  him  and  he  strug 
gled  to  recover  his  voice. 

"  Your  Highness  is  most  welcome,"  she  graciously 
said,  with  a  tinge  of  quiet  surprise  in  her  tone. 
"  This  is,  indeed,  an  unexpected  pleasure." 

Her  dignity  and  her  formal  greeting  astounded 
him  and  reassured  him.  But  what  was  this  trick? 
She  introduced  him  to  De  Lucia,  who  had  risen 
from  the  piano-stool,  and  was  nearest  him,  then  she 
presented  him  to  Mr.  Rolfe,  with  a  frank,  innocent 
unconsciousness  that  shocked  Monsieur  Dubois,  who 
sat  near  the  piano. 

"  The  Prince  and  I  are  already  acquainted,"  Rich 
ard  said,  holding  out  his  hand  to  Jean  Marie  and 
wondering  afterwards  why  the  Frenchman's  fingers 
were  so  cold.  He  was  not  surprised  that  the  Prince 
was  acquainted  with  Camille,  because  she  had  told 
Richard  that  she  knew  Cavarodossi,  and  he  also  had 
found  Dubois  comfortably  smoking  in  her  reception- 
room  when  he  arrived. 

"  Yes,  we  are  friends,"  returned  Jean  Marie,  but 
his  voice  had  not  regained  its  natural  sweetness. 

"  Mr.  Rolfe  is  charmed  with  Mademoiselle's  art," 
said  De  Lucia.  He  was  the  Neapolitan  baritone 
whom  Cavarodossi  had  taken  to  Camille's  rooms  when 
she  gave  the  first  musical  evening. 


210  THE     FLAME 

"  How  could  he  be  anything  else  but  charmed  ?  " 
asked  Dubois,  flashing  Camille  a  coquettish  glance 
and  rubbing  his  pudgy  fingers  together. 

Camille  shook  her  fan  at  him.  "  Flatterer !  "  she 
exclaimed.  "  You  are  trying  to  turn  my  head. 
Isn't  he,  Mr.  Rolfe?" 

Richard  laughed  at  the  absurdity  of  it,  but  was 
attracted  by  Camille's  playful  humor.  He  thought 
she  was  an  uncommonly  refined  woman  to  be  a  public 
singer,  and  was  surprised  at  her  modest  black  gown 
that  was  not  even  open  at  the  throat. 

"  I  never  have  heard  a  voice  more  brilliant  and 
magnetic  than  yours,"  he  said.  "  The  opera  lovers 
in  Paris  must  worship  you.  Why  have  you  never 
tried  for  an  engagement  in  this  country  ?  " 

Camille  shrugged  with  pretty  French  grace.  "I 
have  been  willing  to  remain  at  home,  but  this  year 
I  decided  to  try  my  fortune  here.  It  is  my  inten 
tion  to  see  something  of  this  country  and  then  return 
to  New  York  this  fall,  with  the  hope  that  I  can  make 
a  contract  with  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House.  I 
have  been  on  the  stage  only  three  years,  so  I  am 
comparatively  unknown." 

Jean  Marie  studied  her  with  puzzled  anxiety. 
She  was  pretending  to  be  an  opera  singer!  What 
was  the  meaning  of  her  ruse?  He  felt  that  a  net 
was  binding  him  and  the  cords  were  cutting  deep.  It 
was  not  for  herself  alone  that  she  was  deceiving  Mr. 
Rolfe.  Jean  Marie  was  positive  that  she  was  plan 
ning  to  thrust  him  into  a  pit,  and  the  reassurance 
that  he  felt  withered  and  died.  He  knew  there  was 
danger  when  her  eyes  were  coldly  brilliant  and  her 


THE     FLAME  211 

cheeks  were  tinged  with  a  deeper  red.  But  he  held 
his  outward  manner  in  absolute  control. 

Dubois  was  shocked  at  her  calm  falsehoods,  but 
did  not  betray  his  astonishment.  He  was  satisfied 
so  long  as  she  was  kind  to  him.  Perhaps  she  thought 
it  more  dignified  to  call  herself  an  opera  singer. 

Camille  offered  Jean  Marie  a  chair  and  sat  oppo 
site  him,  so  that  she  could  watch  his  face. 

De  Lucia  was  on  the  piano-stool  again,  looking 
over  some  music. 

"  You  certainly  would  make  a  success  here,"  said 
Richard,  settling  back  on  the  divan,  "  and  I  hope  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  saying  that  you  made  your 
American  debut  in  my  home." 

Jean  Marie  flashed  him  a  horrified  glance. 

Camille's  heart  fluttered,  but  she  calmly  asked: 
"Do  you  wish  me  to  sing  for  you?  " 

"  Yes.  I  must  confess  now  that  it  was  for  this 
reason  that  I  came  here  to-night.  My  sister  is  going 
to  give  a  musicale  and  De  Lucia  truthfully  told  me 
that  you  can  surpass  any  soprano  in  the  city.  Will 
you  be  at  liberty  to  sing  for  us  a  week  from  to-night, 
Saturday?  " 

Jean  Marie  was  paralyzed  with  terror.  He  looked 
at  Camille  and  saw  victory  pulsating  through  her 
body.  She  was  leaning  forward,  her  bright  eyes  de 
vouring  Richard,  and  an  exultant  laugh  trembling  on 
her  artful  lips. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  with  undisguised  eagerness,  "  I'll 
sing  for  you  with  pleasure,  and  you  cannot  imagine 
the  gratification  it  will  give  me."  She  did  not  try 
to  crush  the  thrill  in  her  voice. 


212  THEFLAME 

Her  burning  eyes  turned  on  Jean  Marie,  as  he 
sat  stunned,  and  the  triumph  in  her  face  warned  him 
of  his  ruin. 

"  You  can  make  all  arrangements  with  De  Lucia," 
Richard  said,  courteously  bowing  in  answer  to  her 
words.  "  My  sister  will  be  delighted  to  know  that 
I  have  found  a  great  soprano.  This  above  all  was 
worrying  her." 

"  Please  don't  tell  any  one  about  me,"  Camille  said, 
with  a  light  laugh.  "  I  don't  wrant  your  sister  to 
hear  me  until  the  night  of  the  musicale.  I  wish  to 
surprise  her  agreeably,  if  I  can,  and  half  the  pleas 
ure  would  be  gone  if  she  should  hear  me  sing  before 
Saturday  night." 

Jean  Marie  sat  like  a  statue,  but  his  heart  was 
hammering  violently.  He  kept  his  gaze  riveted  to 
the  floor,  because  he  was  afraid  that  his  eyes  would 
betray  his  alarm. 

Dubois  was  very  uncomfortable.  He  glanced 
nervously  from  Camille  to  Jean  Marie,  and  saw  that 
the  blood  was  drained  even  from  the  Prince's  lips. 
He  believed  that  His  Highness  was  being  wedged 
into  a  dangerous  corner,  but  he  dared  not  interfere, 
not  understanding  the  predicament  nor  knowing  how 
to  save  him. 

"  I  don't  know  that  we  can  keep  you  a  secret," 
said  Richard.  "  I  believe  my  sister  has  you  and 
Cavarodossi  on  the  programme  for  a  scene  from  '  La 
Tosca.'  I  suppose  you'll  have  to  rehearse  with 
him." 

"  No,"  Camille  quickly  protested.  "  Twice  I  have 
sung  all  the  tenor  and  soprano  scenes  with  him  in 


THE     FLAME  213 

'  Tosca,'  and  he  knows  the  opera  well.  Keep  me  a 
mystery.  It  will  be  great  fun,  and  he'll  be  so  sur 
prised  to  see  me." 

Richard  smiled.  "  Very  well,"  he  agreed.  "  So 
long  as  you  wish  it,  we  will  keep  you  a  mystery.  It 
will  add  some  excitement  to  our  musicale.  But  per 
haps  Cavarodossi  will  refuse  to  sing  with  a  woman 
who  will  not  divulge  her  identity." 

"  Don't  fear.  My  identity  won't  be  a  secret 
long."  There  was  a  playful  tone  in  her  voice,  but  it 
cut  Jean  Marie  like  a  knife.  She  had  had  some  hid 
den  reason  when  asking  Dubois  to  secure  her  an  en 
gagement  to  sing  in  the  Rolfe  home  and  the  Prince 
had  withheld  the  little  Frenchman  from  aiding  her, 
but  now  Richard  himself  had  come  and  her  object 
would  be  accomplished!  Jean  Marie  could  hardly 
stand  as  Mr.  Rolfe  rose  to  leave. 

"Must  you  go  so  early?"  Disappointment  was 
in  Camille's  voice. 

"  Yes.  My  sister  has  company  and  I  promised 
to  return  home  by  ten  o'clock." 

"  I  am  sorry,  but  I  hope  you  will  call  again.  It 
has  given  me  great  pleasure  to  make  your  acquaint 
ance,  Mr.  Rolfe." 

"  Thank  you.  I  can  sincerely  return  the  compli 
ment." 

De  Lucia  made  ready  to  leave  with  Richard,  and 
Dubois  thought  it  advisable  to  do  likewise.  He 
feared  there  might  be  a  scene  between  the  Prince  and 
Camille,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  witness  it. 

"  You  surely  won't  fail  us,"  Richard  added.  "  My 
sister  would  be  greatly  disappointed." 


214  THE    FLAME 

"  Don't  be  uneasy,  Mr.  Rolfe,"  said  Camille,  tak 
ing  his  extended  hand.  "  Next  Saturday  night  will 
be  one  of  the  happiest  events  of  my  life." 

Richard  bowed  over  her  hand,  said  good-night  to 
Jean  Marie,  and  stepped  out  into  the  corridor,  fol 
lowed  by  De  Lucia  and  also  by  Dubois,  who  gave 
Camille  a  last  exaggerated  compliment,  hoping  to 
delight  her. 

She  closed  the  door  behind  them  and  turned  to  Jean 
Marie  with  a  sarcastic  laugh  in  her  bewitching  eyes. 

The  Prince  took  a  quick,  threatening  step  towards 
her. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ? "  he  hotly  de 
manded.  "  What  are  you  scheming  to  do  ?  " 

Camille  brushed  past  him  and  went  towards  the 
piano.  "  I  don't  understand  your  asking  '  the  mean 
ing  of  this,'  and  surely  it  was  no  scheme  of  mine," 
she  calmly  said.  "  De  Lucia  telephoned  to  me  late  this 
afternoon  that  he  would  call  this  evening  and  bring 
Mr.  Rolfe,  who  wished  to  engage  a  soprano  to  sing 
at  a  musicale  to  be  given  in  his  home,  and  De  Lucia 
believed  that  I  would  suit  admirably.  That  is  the 
history  of  my  meeting  with  Mr.  Rolfe,  and  I  think  he 
is  a  very  pleasant  man." 

Jean  Marie  closely  watched  her.  The  brilliancy 
was  still  in  her  eyes,  but  the  triumph  had  faded,  or 
had  he  in  his  fright  imagined  it  to  be  there  ?  ' 

"  I'm  sure,  Jean,  I  treated  you  very  fairly.  I 
called  you  t  Your  Highness,'  and  acted  as  though  you 
were  no  more  to  me  than  a  mere  acquaintance.  Could 
I  have  done  more?  " 


THE    FLAME  215 

Jean  Marie  was  forced  to  admit  that  she  could  not, 
but  he  knew  in  his  own  heart  that  she  had  a  hidden 
scheme.  His  fears  and  his  nerves  were  in  such  a  riot 
that  he  dared  not  remain  with  her  longer.  He  could 
not  prevent  her  going  to  the  Rolfe  home,  but  he  must 
set  his  energies  on  finding  a  way  to  thwart  whatever 
plan  she  had  in  mind. 

"  Why  did  you  call  yourself  an  opera  singer?  "  he 
sharply  asked. 

Cold,  hard  lines  drew  in  her  face.  "  Because  I  am 
ashamed  of  my  cafe  fame.  When  I  tell  where  I  have 
been  singing,  I  feel  that  my  horrible  life  has  been 
disclosed."  She  drew  her  hand  quickly  across  her 
forehead,  and  her  hatred  of  Jean  Marie  flamed  in 
her  eyes,  as  she  said  with  a  purring  little  laugh: 
"  We'll  have  a  little  of  the  Rolfe  money,  after  all. 
They  should  pay  me  well." 

Jean  Marie  would  not  trust  himself  to  answer,  but 
took  up  his  hat  and  overcoat.  Fear  made  him  dizzy 
and  weak,  and  he  thought  no  more  of  the  money  he 
had  come  for. 

"  Are  you  going?  "  she  asked  with  surprise.  "  I 
thought  you  would  stay  with  me." 

"  No,"  he  snapped.  "  I'm  going  home,"  and  he 
opened  the  door. 

"  Oh,  Jean,"  she  sweetly  called  to  him.  "  Here  is 
your  cane.  You  went  off  in  such  a  hurry  the  other 
day  that  you  forgot  it." 

Turning  back,  he  impatiently  seized  it  and  could 
not  resist  a  glance  at  her.  Her  long  lashes  were  half 
shading  her  dangerous,  glowing  eyes  and  her  lips 


216  THE     FLAME 

were  parted  with  a  taunting  smile.  He  could  feel 
the  victory  that  she  was  hiding,  and  he  turned  away 
with  an  inward  shudder  from  the  stinging  gaze  that 
enveloped  him. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

AS  Jean  Marie  went  down  the  corridor,  Camille's 
brilliant,  exultant  voice  followed  him  in  an  aria 
from  "  Fedora."  Even  when  he  had  reached  the 
street,  her  voice  was  echoing  in  his  ears,  and  it  burned 
his  blood,  like  a  poison.  Without  a  doubt  she  was 
planning  his  destruction.  He  could  hear  it  in  her 
vibrant  tones  and  the  last  glance  she  had  given  him 
had  betrayed  her  treachery.  Had  De  Lucia  taken 
Mr.  Rolfe  to  her  unasked,  or  had  she  conspired  with 
the  baritone  to  secure  the  engagement  for  the  musi- 
cale  ? 

Jean  Marie  knew  that  he  must  control  himself  and 
critically  study  his  perilous  position.  In  his  anger, 
he  might  be  tempted  to  commit  a  reckless  folly.  He 
believed  now  that  he  had  seen  triumph  in  Camille's 
eyes,  but  what  was  she  planning  to  do?  It  did  not 
occur  to  him  that  she  might  denounce  him,  publicly, 
but  if  it  were  Gwendolyn  only  whom  she  wished  to 
reach,  he  wondered  why  she  did  not  go  to  her  as  she 
once  had  threatened  she  would  to  cause  some  excite 
ment  and  relieve  the  monotony  of  her  existence.  He 
was  deeply  puzzled,  knowing  that  he  could  not  easily 
understand  her  trickery.  Another  fear  had  come  to 
him  when  Camille  had  said  that  Mr.  Rolfe  was  a 
very  pleasant  man.  Would  she  ruin  the  Prince  and 
make  it  impossible  for  him  to  win  the  Rolfe  millions 

217 


218  THE    FLAME 

and  then  captivate  Richard  and  have  the  fortune  at 
her  own  disposal?  He  knew  that  the  American  was 
shrewd  and  self-possessed,  but  he  did  not  believe  that 
any  man  could  withstand  Camille's  witchery.  This 
new  fear  set  Jean  Marie's  emotions  in  such  a  tumult 
that  he  could  not  steady  his  thoughts  for  some  time 
after  arriving  at  the  Fairmont.  He  had  seen  a 
frank,  undisguised  admiration  for  Camille  in  Rich 
ard's  eyes,  also  he  had  noted  Camille's  modest  attire, 
and  this  substantiated  his  apprehension,  yet  Jean 
Marie  could  not  believe  that  this  scheme  had  any  es 
sential  connection  with  her  desire  to  gain  an  entrance 
to  the  Rolfe  home. 

With  desperate  anxiety  and  disgust,  the  Prince 
threw  himself  into  a  chair  in  his  "  study  "  and  rested 
his  tired  head  in  his  hands.  He  felt  a  weakening  re 
action  after  his  terror  at  meeting  Mr.  Rolfe,  and  for 
a  time,  sat  with  his  eyes  closed,  struggling  to  calm 
himself  and  concentrate  his  thoughts  upon  the 
thwarting  of  Camille's  designs  for  the  musicale. 

At  first,  he  decided  to  decline  Gwendolyn's  invita 
tion,  which  he  already  had  accepted.  He  could  make 
the  excuse  of  a  sudden  illness,  but  his  better  judg 
ment  told  him  that  when  Gwendolyn  would  see  Ca 
mille,  she  would  understand  this  "  illness,"  and  would 
realize  at  once  that  the  story  he  had  told  about  his 
foolish  infatuation  for  the  woman  was  untrue.  Gwen 
dolyn  would  know  that  he  was  afraid  to  confront  the 
singer  in  her  presence,  and  if  he  were  afraid,  it  would 
be  proof  that  there  had  been  something  more  than 
an  innocent  flirtation  between  them.  And  what 
would  Richard  think  of  his  absence?  It  would  be 


THE     FLAME  219 

throwing  every  advantage  into  Camille's  hands,  giv 
ing  her  the  opportunity  to  use  his  absence  as  a  proof 
against  him,  and  Mr.  Rolfe  would  quickly  accept  the 
evidence,  because  it  would  be  the  first  invitation  of 
that  kind  that  Jean  Marie  ever  had  declined. 

Although  Gwendolyn  had  not  told  the  Prince  of 
the  programme  she  was  arranging,  she  had  spoken 
several  times  of  the  musicale  and  said  that  it  was  the 
largest  entertainment  she  had  undertaken,  and  he  had 
shared  in  her  enthusiasm  and  encouraged  her  to 
make  the  affair  a  brilliant  success.  She  had  gratified 
his  vanity  by  speaking  of  his  accomplishments  as  an 
entertainer,  and  he  had  said  that  he  would  gladly  as 
sist  her  and  Mr.  Rolfe  in  receiving  the  guests.  This 
was  the  opportunity  he  desired  to  prove  to  society 
that  he  was  perfectly  at  ease  in  the  Rolfe  home,  and 
he  knew  that  Feleki  would  not  be  mingling  with  the 
people  and  watching  him.  If  he  should  refuse  to  be 
present  now  that  Camille  was  engaged  to  sing,  the 
evidence  against  him  would  be  indisputable  and  he 
decided  that  it  would  be  better  to  go  to  the  musicale 
and  brave  the  consequences,  especially  as  he  had  no 
proof  that  Camille  intended  to  do  anything.  If  she 
attempted  to  create  a  scene  before  Gwendolyn  or 
Richard,  Jean  Marie  would  brand  her  as  an  ad 
venturess,  and  surely  the  word  of  His  Highness  of 
Bourbon  would  stand  against  that  of  a  cafe  singer! 
But  would  Feleki  defend  Camille  and  tell  that  she  was 
the  Diane  Godin  whose  history  he  had  related?  He 
would  if  he  were  conspiring  with  her  against  Jean 
Marie.  Yet  if  he  were  leagued  with  her,  why  had  he 
not  recommended  her  to  Richard? 


220  THE     FLAME 

Jean  Marie's  thoughts  were  in  a  whirl  and  he  did 
not  know  what  to  believe,  for  one  idea  was  contra 
dictory  to  the  other.  He  decided  that  the  wisest 
course  he  could  follow  would  be  to  see  Dubois  the 
next  morning  and  have  him  try  to  induce  Mr.  Rolfe 
to  engage  another  woman.  The  Prince  went  to  bed 
with  the  vain  hope  of  resting  his  exhausted  mind. 

In  the  morning  he  sent  for  Dubois,  who  listened 
with  evident  uneasiness  to  the  plan  that  the  Prince 
proposed.  He  did  not  wish  to  refuse  His  Highness 
nor  did  he  want  to  lose  favor  with  Camille. 

"  Just  hint  at  the  idea  of  having  another  singer," 
Jean  Marie  said  as  Dubois  was  leaving.  "  Don't 
make  any  remark  that  would  be  too  pointed.  Only 
arouse  a  doubt  in  Mr.  Rolfe's  mind  as  to  her  adapta 
bility.  You  know  how  to  do  it,  Dubois.  You  are 
so  clever." 

The  little  Frenchman  brightened,  but  did  not  re 
gain  his  ease. 

"  Just  touch  on  the  points  I  have  suggested,"  the 
Prince  added,  taking  Dubois's  fat  hand  and  pressing 
it.  "  It  will  be  a  risky  thing  to  let  Camille  gain  an 
entrance  to  the  Rolfe  home.  She  might  disclose  the 
foolish  infatuation  I  felt  for  her  long  ago,  of  which  I 
have  just  told  you,  and  that  would  be  most  uncom 
fortable.  She  is  a  tricky,  spiteful  little  minx  when 
she  wishes  to  be."  Jean  Marie  laughed  lightly. 
"  I'm  sure  she  has  some  object  for  being  determined 
to  sing  there.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

Dubois  puckered  his  lips  and  was  thoughtful. 
"  Yes,"  he  said,  slowly.  "  It  does  look  suspicious." 

"  Decidedly  so,"  agreed  Jean  Marie,  "  and  I  have 


THE     FLAME  221 

thought  of  something  else.  I  fear  we  may  lose  her 
bright  companionship  if  she  is  not  well  guarded." 

Dubois  gave  Jean  Marie  a  quick,  anxious  glance. 
"  What  do  you  mean?  "  he  asked. 

The  Prince's  tone  was  confidential.  "  Didn't  you 
notice  how  gracious  she  was  to  Mr.  Rolfe  and  how 
charmed  he  was  with  her  ?  " 

"  Yes."  Dubois's  worried  eyes  eagerly  searched 
Jean  Marie's  face. 

"  I'm  afraid,"  the  Prince  went  on,  "  that  if  Mr. 
Rolfe  is  brought  in  contact  with  her  she  will  capti 
vate  him.  Can't  you  understand  how  dazzling  such 
a  fortune  is  to  an  ambitious  woman  like  Camille? 
Be  careful !  Mr.  Rolfe  would  guard  her  as  he  guards 
his  millions,  and  you  would  be  out  in  the  cold." 

The  anxiety  in  the  little  Frenchman's  eyes  redou 
bled  and  he  nervously  coughed.  He  had  flattered 
himself  that  he  was  rising  in  Camille's  esteem  and 
the  thought  of  a  dangerous  rival  like  Mr.  Rolfe  was 
alarming.  Jean  Marie  had  struck  the  right  chord, 
as  he  knew.  Dubois  had  learned  from  the  Prince 
this  morning  that  His  Highness  was  wooing  Gwen 
dolyn  and  he  was  elated,  being  positive  now  that  Jean 
Marie  felt  no  deep  interest  in  Camille.  The  one 
rival  he  had  feared  was  removed,  but  Mr.  Rolfe ! 

"  I'll  do  all  I  can  to  assist  Your  Highness,"  Du 
bois  said  with  unrestrained  eagerness.  "  It  surely 
would  not  do  for  Mr.  Rolfe  to  become  interested  in 
Mademoiselle." 

"  Certainly  not,"  agreed  Jean  Marie,  not  asking 
the  reason  why,  but  adding :  "  A  millionaire  is  ca 
pricious  and  thinks  he  can  buy  the  earth.  Mr.  Rolfe 


222  THE     FLAME 

never  would  be  serious  with  any  woman  who  has  been 
in  Camille's  public  position." 

"No,"  sighed  Dubois.  "Poor  Camille!"  It 
was  the  first  time  he  had  used  her  Christian  name  and 
he  felt  a  sudden  thrill.  "  Your  Highness  can  de 
pend  upon  me  to  help  you  and  her."  There  was  an 
emphatic  little  ring  in  his  voice,  but  when  he  had  left 
Jean  Marie  and  was  on  his  way  to  the  club  for 
luncheon  in  search  of  Mr.  Rolfe,  he  lost  his  courage, 
and  not  even  for  Camille's  sake  could  he  induce  him 
self  to  speak  as  strongly  to  Richard  as  he  had  in 
tended.  He  did  not  relish  mingling  in  other  men's 
affairs  and  he  wished  His  Highness  had  attended  to 
this  business  himself.  He  felt  timid  about  going  to 
the  musicale  and  would  be  very  glad  when  it  was 
over.  He  began  to  wonder  why  Camille  had  come  to 
San  Francisco.  Perhaps  the  "  foolish  infatuation  " 
of  which  Jean  Marie  had  just  told  him,  had  been  of 
a  more  serious  nature,  but,  and  Dubois  sighed  senti 
mentally,  she  was  very  kind  to  him,  and  she  did  not 
appear  to  love  the  Prince. 

When  he  reached  the  club,  he  found  that  Richard 
had  arrived  before  him,  and  was  pleased  with  Mr. 
Rolfe's  invitation  to  sit  at  his  table. 

"  Did  you  go  back  and  finish  your  interrupted  call 
with  the  fair  singer  last  night  ?  "  asked  Richard,  with 
a  smile. 

Dubois  blushed  and  quickly  raised  a  protesting 
hand.  "  No.  If  I  had  been  deeply  interested,  I 
would  have  stayed." 

"With  Bourbon  as  a  rival?  The  ladies  seem  to 
like  him." 


THE     FLAME  223 

"  He  is  an  estimable  man."  Dubois  spoke  with 
conviction. 

"  Estimable,  but  dangerous.  You  looked  very 
much  at  home  when  I  arrived  last  night  with  De 
Lucia.  Take  care !  "  Richard  held  up  a  warning 
finger. 

Dubois  fidgeted  on  his  chair  and  coughed  with  em 
barrassment. 

Richard  added  with  sly  humor :  "  Such  eyes  as 
hers  would  pierce  any  man's  heart." 

Dubois  gave  him  a  quick,  uneasy  glance.  "  Even 
yours,  Mr.  Rolfe?" 

"  Oh,  I'm  a  confirmed  bachelor,  but  —  Who  can 
tell?  "  When  he  saw  the  little  Frenchman's  nervous 
ness,  he  checked  the  smile  that  was  rising  to  his 
lips. 

"  Let  us  not  speak  of  hearts  and  eyes,"  Dubois 
said  in  a  peevish  tone.  "  I  have  been  thinking  all 
the  morning  that  she  is  not  the  one  who  should  sing 
at  your  musicale." 

Richard  gave  him  a  surprised  glance.  "  Why 
not?  I  nerer  have  heard  such  a  rich,  magnetic 
voice." 

"  It  is  not  a  matter  of  voice,"  Dubois  returned. 
"  Sometimes  she  is  rather  capricious." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Dubois  faltered.  "  In  her  dress.  She  might  go 
to  your  home  in  a  gown  that  would  shock  your  sis 
ter  and  her  guests.  Last  evening  she  was  modestly 
attired,  but  — "  He  hesitated. 

"  Don't  let  that  disturb  you,"  Richard  said, 
amused.  "  I'll  send  her  a  note  and  ask  her  to  drape 


224  THE     FLAME 

herself  with  becoming  modesty.  Is  there  any  other 
objection?  " 

Dubois  hitched  his  chair  a  little  closer  to  the  table. 

"  Sometimes  she  is  a  trifle  erratic,  and, —  Well, 
you  know,  a  little  too  gay  and  familiar,  perhaps,  for 
a  social  gathering." 

Richard  laughed.  "  She  won't  mingle  with  the 
guests.  If  she  has  an  erratic  spell  no  one  will  know 
it  but  Cavarodossi,  who  is  to  sing  with  her,  and  I 
can  trust  him  to  manage  the  affair  with  the  proper 
dignity  and  discretion." 

Dubois  reddened,  knowing  that  Richard  was  ridi 
culing  him.  "  Of  course,"  he  said,  with  an  attempted 
carelessness,  "  she  may  be  just  as  charming  as  she 
was  last  night,  but  what  does  your  sister  think  of 
having  a  woman  sing  who  will  not  divulge  her 
identity?  " 

"  Gwendolyn  is  consumed  with  curiosity,  and  she 
half  believes  that  the  artist  is  one  of  the  opera  sing 
ers.  The  fair  enchantress  was  right.  The  mystery 
surrounding  her  adds  excitement  to  our  entertain 
ment  and  I  rather  enjoy  the  deluge  of  questions  I 
know  will  be  asked  concerning  her." 

"  But,"  said  Dubois,  "  do  you  think  Cavarodossi 
will  consent  to  sing  with  an  unknown  woman?  " 

"  Yes.  I  have  seen  him  this  morning  and  told 
him  all  about  it.  He  laughed  at  the  singer's  caprice, 
but  was  not  in  the  least  perturbed.  He  said  he  knows 
4  La  Tosca  '  so  well  that  he  can  sing  it  forward  or 
backward  or  any  other  way,  and  the  lack  of  rehears 
als  doesn't  trouble  him  in  the  least." 

Dubois  knew  that  he  could  not  influence  Richard, 


THE     FLAME  225 

so  he  said  no  more.  After  luncheon  he  telephoned 
to  Jean  Marie  that  the  millionaire's  determination 
could  not  be  shaken.  All  His  Highness  could  do 
would  be  to  have  courage  and  await  results. 

This  advice  was  anything  but  soothing  to  the 
Prince.  He  hung  up  the  receiver  with  an  angry 
fling,  and  whirling  off,  thrust  his  fists  down  deep  into 
his  pockets.  There  was  no  one  else  to  whom  he 
could  appeal.  Cavarodossi  was  not  his  friend,  and 
surely  Feleki  was  not.  He  was  almost  tempted  to 
tell  Gwendolyn  whom  her  brother  had  engaged  and 
ask  her  to  keep  the  woman  from  the  house.  He 
knew  Gwendolyn  would  gladly  comply,  but  what 
excuse  could  be  made  to  Mr.  Rolfe?  If  Richard 
should  see  Camille  again,  she  would  for  revenge  be 
tray  Jean  Marie.  He  tried  to  convince  himself  that 
he  had  exaggerated  the  cunning  triumph  in  her  eyes. 
He  would  go  and  see  her,  and  he  would  call  every 
day  and  use  his  most  persuasive  arts  to  keep  her  in 
good  humor. 

"  What  a  beastly  burden  a  woman  can  make  of  a 
man's  life !  "  he  thought  as  he  angrily  caught  up  his 
hat  and  left  the  room,  noisily  shutting  the  door  be 
hind  him. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  week  passed  uneventfully  and  the  Saturday 
that  had  been  awaited  with  pleasure  and  fear, 
arrived.  By  Gwendolyn  and  those  associated  with 
her  musicale,  the  day  was  greeted  with  various  emo 
tions.  As  soon  as  the  morning  dawned,  Jean  Marie 
was  awake,  lying  in  his  bed,  the  victim  of  a  weaken 
ing  fear.  He  believed  that  this  would  be  the  most 
critical  day  of  his  life,  and  he  was  powerless.  Dur 
ing  the  week,  he  had  spent  much  of  his  time  with 
Camille,  and  she  had  been  gracious  and  loving,  too 
loving,  he  thought,  to  be  sincere.  Dubois's  advice 
to  "  have  courage  and  await  results  "  was  madden 
ing,  but  it  was  all  Jean  Marie  could  do,  and  he  knew 
it. 

All  day  Camille  was  exultant,  nervous,  and  im 
patient  for  night  to  come.  Feleki  was  still  happily 
unaware  that  she  had  been  engaged,  and  he  awaited 
the  evening  with  pleasure,  as  did  Cavarodossi,  who 
was  glad  to  sing  the  scene  from  "  La  Tosca,"  know 
ing  that  Gwendolyn  would  be  thrilled.  He  could 
speak  to  her  heart  with  music  more  eloquently  than 
with  words. 

There  were  extensive  preparations  under  way  in 
the  Rolfe  home,  which  Gwendolyn  was  superintend 
ing.  The  musicale  was  to  be  given  in  the  spacious 
double  drawing-rooms.  At  the  farther  end  of  the 


THEFLAME  227 

second  room,  a  stage  had  been  erected  and  in  front 
of  it  were  arranged  twenty  chairs  for  the  orchestra, 
that  was  to  accompany  the  soloists.  From  the  stage 
to  the  door  near  the  end  of  the  room,  leading  into 
the  hall,  were  screens  and  palms,  making  a  passage 
for  the  artists,  that  they  might  not  be  seen  until 
they  stepped  upon  the  stage.  In  the  front  room  a 
hundred  and  fifty  chairs  had  been  arranged  theater- 
fashion  and  in  the  second  room  were  fifty.  The 
stage  was  set  as  a  conservatory,  so  the  artists  would 
stand  in  the  midst  of  the  choicest  and  most  beautiful 
plants  and  flowers.  Rare  birds  with  radiant  plum 
age  were  fastened,  lifelike,  to  some  of  the  small  trees 
and  palms,  and  above  each  bird,  to  display  its  bril 
liancy,  was  an  electric  light,  hidden  in  the  entwining 
branches.  The  rooms  were  to  be  softly  lighted  that 
the  performers  might  be  in  the  strong  glow  of  the 
stage  foot-lights  and  those  arranged  overhead  to 
shine  down,  unseen  by  the  audience. 

Richard  was  delighted  with  the  electrical  display 
and  the  arrangement  of  everything  and  was  doubly 
proud  because  his  sister  was  the  originator. 

Gwendolyn  invited  Jean  Marie,  Cavarodossi  and 
Feleki  to  dinner,  but  Janos  declined  the  invitation, 
saying  that  when  he  was  to  play  in  the  evening,  he 
preferred  to  be  alone  all  day  until  the  hour  of  his 
recital.  Gwendolyn  laughingly  told  Richard  that 
this  was  another  caprice  of  genius,  but,  in  truth,  it 
was  because  he  could  not  sit  through  another  meal 
with  Jean  Marie. 

At  dinner,  Gwendolyn  again  questioned  Richard 
concerning  the  mysterious  soprano. 


228  THE     FLAME 

"Won't  you  let  us  into  the  secret,  Dick?  We 
can't  wait  any  longer,  can  we?  "  She  glanced  at 
Jean  Marie,  and  the  smile  he  returned  was  some 
what  ghastly. 

"  Oh,  but  you  must  wait,"  Richard  insisted. 
"  Signor  Cavarodossi  is  patient  and  he  is  going  to 
sing  with  her." 

Gwendolyn  pouted.     "  Is  she  really  pretty?  " 

"  Magnificent !  Radiant !  Before  the  evening  is 
over  every  man  will  be  at  her  feet.  Are  you 
alarmed?  "  He  laughed. 

"  No.  But  I  don't  believe  all  men  are  slaves  to 
beauty." 

"  Indeed  not,"  answered  Cavarodossi,  in  his  quiet, 
firm  tones.  "  I  have  told  you  before  that  /  worship 
the  beauties  of  the  soul." 

Gwendolyn  flashed  him  an  approving  glance. 

All  during  dinner,  Jean  Marie  felt  himself  an  out 
sider,  but  would  he  be  an  outcast  before  the  night 
was  over?  When  he  had  arrived,  Gwendolyn  had 
told  him  that  he  was  pale  and  did  not  look  well,  but 
he  had  stoutly  assured  her  that  he  never  had  been 
better  nor  happier,  because  he  was  near  her  again. 

As  they  rose  from  the  table,  she  asked  Cavarodossi 
if  he  would  take  charge  of  the  artists. 

"  Yes.  Don't  be  anxious  about  anything.  De 
Lucia  and  I  will  be  the  joint  impresari."  He 
smiled. 

She  took  them  into  the  breakfast-room,  which 
was  back  of  the  drawing-rooms,  and  showed  them 
how  she  had  made  a  real  theatrical  dressing-room 
of  it.  There  was  a  dresser  with  paints,  powder, 


T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E  229 

hair-pins,  and  everything  necessary.  She  eagerly 
caught  Cavarodossi's  arm  and  took  him  to  the 
dresser. 

"  Look! "  she  said,  gleefully.     "  Isn't  this  fine?  " 

"  Make-up  galore !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  One  would 
think  you  had  been  born  behind  the  scenes.  Every 
thing  is  splendidly  arranged."  He  turned  to  Jean 
Marie.  "  I  most  heartily  congratulate  her.  Don't 
you?" 

The  Prince  stood  forlornly  still  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  apparently  unconscious  of  his  surround 
ings. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  rousing.  "  Mademoiselle  is  un 
deniably  clever,"  but  there  was  no  enthusiasm  nor 
even  interest  in  his  tone. 

Gwendolyn's  smiling  lips  drooped  and  she  studied 
him  with  disappointment  and  concern.  Surely  Rich 
ard  was  right.  There  must  be  something  trouble 
some  on  his  mind.  Her  brother's  words  came  to  her 
again :  "  Noblemen  seem  to  have  a  knack  for  get 
ting  into  scrapes."  She  shrank  from  the  thought. 
Perhaps  she  had  exaggerated  his  disinterested  man 
ner,  but  as  they  left  the  room,  Cavarodossi  said  in  a 
low  tone: 

"  What  can  be  the  matter  with  His  Highness  to 
night?  He  seems  bored." 

Gwendolyn  did  not  answer,  nor  did  she  have  the 
opportunity,  for  Cavarodossi  hurriedly  left  her  to 
greet  the  orchestra  men,  who  were  arriving.  The 
director  was  the  talented  young  violinist  who  had 
played  the  gipsy  solo  in  "  Amico  Fritz."  Cavaro 
dossi  introduced  him  to  Gwendolyn  and  she  was 


230  THE    FLAME 

charmed  with  his  fine,  classical  face.  She  looked  for 
Jean  Marie,  that  he  also  might  meet  this  interesting 
artist,  but  the  Prince  had  disappeared.  She  glanced 
into  the  drawing-room,  where  the  musicians  were  ar 
ranging  their  chairs  and  music.  Jean  Marie  was  not 
there.  She  crossed  the  hall  and  looked  into  the 
library,  but  could  not  find  him.  With  anxiety,  she 
went  to  the  music-room  and  abruptly  halted  on  the 
threshold. 

The  Prince  was  in  the  dimly  lighted  room,  pacing 
the  floor,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back  and 
his  head  bent  low.  He  did  not  notice  Gwendolyn 
until  she  was  at  his  side. 

"What  is  it,  Jean?"  she  asked  with  a  nervous 
little  quiver  in  her  voice.  "  Can't  I  help  you?  " 

He  caught  her  hand,  lying  on  his  arm.  "  Gwen 
dolyn,"  he  said,  and  paused.  "  You  do  love  me, 
don't  you?  Tell  me  again  that  nothing  can  part 
us." 

She  studied  him  with  troubled  surprise.  "  I  have 
told  you,  Jean,  that  you  and  you  alone  can  separate 
us.  It  could  be  only  because  I  had  proof  that  you 
are  unworthy." 

He  paled,  and  dropping  her  hand,  turned  his 
head  away.  She  was  lost!  Camille  would  vanquish 
him! 

"What  is  troubling  you?"  she  begged. 

"  Wait,"  he  murmured.  "  A  disagreeable  ordeal 
is  before  me,  but  I  am  thinking  of  you,  poor 
dear ! " 

"  Jean !  "   she   exclaimed  in   alarm. 

"  Oh,  you  are  here !  "  said  Richard  in  the  door- 


THE     FLAME  231 

way.  "  Miss  Morris,  her  brother  and  Mr.  Dubois 
have  arrived." 

"  Have  they  ?  "  Gwendolyn  threw  a  gay  tone  into 
her  voice.  "  I  was  just  asking  His  Highness  to 
come  and  meet  the  young  musical  director,  who  re 
sembles  Liszt." 

Jean  Marie  followed  her  out  into  the  hall.  Rich 
ard  gave  him  a  scrutinizing  glance  and  was  annoyed 
as  well  as  curious  to  know  wrhat  had  made  the  French 
man  so  glum.  He  did  not  suspect  that  Camille's 
coming  was  of  any  importance  to  him. 

Monsieur  Dubois  was  very  profuse  in  his  compli 
ments  to  Gwendolyn,  comparing  her,  with  her  sweet 
young  beauty,  to  Aphrodite,  risen  from  the  sea- 
foam.  The  guests,  who  were  rapidly  arriving, 
gathered  round  her,  paying  her  homage.  Jean 
Marie  braced  himself  and  tried  not  to  think  of  the 
future.  Dubois  endeavored  to  cheer  him  and  ex 
pressed  many  friendly  sentiments,  but  Jean  Marie 
was  sure  that  if  public  opinion  turned  against  him, 
Dubois  would  not  have  the  courage  to  defend  him, 
so  he  felt  that  he  stood  alone  in  the  midst  of  the 
whirlpool. 

The  musicale  was  to  begin  at  nine  o'clock  and  it 
was  now  half  after  eight.  Some  of  the  guests  were 
already  seating  themselves  in  the  drawing-rooms  and 
were  making  comments  on  the  interesting  pro 
gramme,  with  which  every  person  was  presented. 
Gwendolyn  fluttered  about,  happily  forgetting  for 
the  present  Jean  Marie's  alarming  words.  She 
greeted  all  of  her  friends  with  some  cordial  little 
phrase,  and  so  did  Richard,  but  he  was  greatly  an- 


232  THE     FLAME 

noyed  with  Jean  Marie's  familiar  manner.  If  the 
Prince  had  been  Gwendolyn's  acknowledged  fiance, 
he  could  not  have  been  more  at  ease  and  attentive 
to  the  guests. 

When  nine  o'clock  came  there  were  no  vacant  seats 
in  the  drawing-rooms,  and  the  orchestra  assembled. 
The  first  applause  was  given  the  young  director,  as 
he  made  his  appearance,  for  his  exquisite  solo  in 
"  Amico  Fritz  "  was  well  remembered. 

The  programme  opened  with  the  overture  of 
Rossini's  "  William  Tell."  It  was  enthusiastically 
received,  and  while  the  director  was  bowing  to  the 
audience,  Gwendolyn  came  down  from  one  of  the 
back  rows,  where  she  had  been  sitting,  and  slipped 
into  a  chair  that  she  had  asked  Jean  Marie  to  keep 
for  her  on  the  second  row  from  the  stage.  He 
pressed  her  hand,  as  she  sat  down  beside  him,  and 
she  looked  into  his  eyes  with  joyful  pride. 

"  I  congratulate  you,  sweetheart,"  he  whispered. 
"  I  am  proud  of  you,  dear !  " 

A  happy  little  thrill  shot  through  her,  and  she 
tightly  clutched  his  fingers. 

The  next  number  was  a  harp  solo.  While  this 
was  being  played,  Camille  arrived  with  De  Lucia, 
and  they  were  taken  into  the  dressing-room.  Only 
Feleki  and  Cavarodossi  were  in  the  room,  the  other 
artists  being  in  the  passage  leading  to  the  stage, 
listening  to  the  solo. 

Camille  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  doorway  and 
glanced  from  Feleki,  walking  up  and  down  the  room, 
and  silently  fingering  his  violin,  to  Cavarodossi,  who 
was  looking  over  some  music. 


THE     FLAME  233 

"  Good-evening,  gentlemen !  "  she  said. 

The  two  men  swung  round.  Janos  blanched  and 
gasped : 

"Diane!" 

As  Camille  went  forward,  she  unfastened  the  long 
black  silk  cape  that  enveloped  her,  and  let  it  slip 
to  the  floor.  With  a  proud,  self-satisfied  smile  and 
love  burning  in  her  eyes  as  they  rested  on  Janos, 
she  stood  in  radiant,  barbaric  splendor  before  the 
astonished  men.  Her  clinging,  decollete  gown  was 
of  glossy  scarlet  silk,  and  she  was  ablaze  with  gems. 
She  wore  a  stomacher  thickly  studded  with  brilliants ; 
her  hands  and  arms  were  laden  with  diamonds, 
and  large  diamond  buckles  were  on  her  scarlet  slip 
pers.  Around  her  beautiful  throat  was  a  collar  of 
brilliants,  and  encircling  her  hair,  coiled  high  on  her 
head,  was  a  gold  band,  holding  three  large  stars  of 
the  same  stones. 

Feleki  and  Cavarodossi  were  stunned  by  her  glow 
ing  beauty  and  her  dazzling  display  of  jewels. 

"  Diane !  "  Feleki  repeated,  at  last.  "  What  are 
you  doing  here?  " 

"  Mr.  Rolfe  has  engaged  me  to  sing,"  she  said, 
gaily.  "  I  believe  I  am  to  give  a  scene  from  '  la 
Tosca  '  with  you,  Signor  Cavarodossi." 

"  Yes,"  he  murmured,  still  dumfounded. 

"How  did  Mr.  Rolfe  know  of  you?"  demanded 
Janos. 

"  Signor  De  Lucia  was  kind  enough  to  recommend 
me."  She  turned  to  the  baritone  with  a  bewitching 
smile  that  brought  him  a  step  closer. 

Janos  gave  her  a  quick,  indignant  glance.     "  Why 


234  THE     FLAME 

did  you  accept  the  engagement?  I  asked  you  to 
spare  Miss  Rolfe,  and  you  promised  to  find  some 
other  way." 

"  If  I  could,"  she  added,  sweetly,  «  but  — "  She 
paused.  Her  face  was  radiant  with  exultant  tri 
umph  and  not  even  Janos  could  soften  the  glow. 
"  Don't  be  angry  with  me.  I  didn't  seek  this  op 
portunity.  It  is  a  miracle,  that's  all."  With  slow, 
serpentine  grace,  she  went  past  Feleki  and  Cavaro- 
dossi  and  began  to  examine1  her  face,  hair  and  cos 
tume  in  the  long  mirror. 

"  For  what  am  I  to  blame  ?  "  De  Lucia  asked 
Feleki. 

"  Time  will  tell,"  was  the  only  answer. 

The  harp  solo  was  ended  and  applause  followed. 

"  Who  is  next  on  the  programme  ?  "  asked  Camille, 
turning  round. 

"  You,  Signorina,"  Cavarodossi  said,  "  and  I  beg 
of  you  — 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  light  laugh.  "  Do 
you  think  I  would  spoil  this  lovely  programme? 
Certainly  not !  "  She  took  the  card  from  him  and 
glanced  over  it.  "  Janos  plays  twice,  I  see,"  she 
said,  with  more  warmth  in  her  voice.  "  Do  you  think 
I  would  upset  this  arrangement  and  lose  one  tone  of 
his  dear  violin  ?  How  little  you  know  me  !  Call  the 
orchestra  director,  will  you,  please?  "  she  asked, 
turning  to  De  Lucia. 

He  went  away  and  found  the  young  musician 
congratulating  the  harpist,  who  had  just  stepped 
from  the  stage,  and  took  him  to  Camille.  The  di- 


THE     FLAME  235 

rector  paused  in  the  doorway  and,  for  an  instant, 
gazed  at  her  with  dilated  eyes,  then  went  slowly  for 
ward.  She  gave  him  an  inimitable,  coquettish 
smile. 

"  I  am  on  the  programme  for  a  solo  from  '  Samson 
and  Delilah,'  "  she  said,  "  and  I  want  to  give  an 
encore  from  the  same  opera, — '  To-night !  Samson 
makes  his  obeisance.'  Have  you  the  music?  " 

"  Yes."  The  director  was  still  eyeing  her  jewels 
with  wonder.  "  We  have  the  whole  score." 

"  Very  well.  I  suppose  I  should  have  been  here 
earlier.  Poor  De  Lucia  was  worrying  so,  but,  never 
mind!  I'm  not  in  the  least  nervous,  only  expectant." 
She  laughed  and  gave  herself  a  last  glance  in  the 
mirror.  "  Do  you  think  I'll  make  a  success,  Maes 
tro?" 

The  director  eyed  her  with  a  piquant  challenge. 
"  Why  do  you  ask  ?  You  know  it !  " 

With  a  fascinating  smile,  she  slipped  her  hand 
through  his  arm. 

"  Come  along !  "  she  said.  "  I  think  they  are 
waiting  for  us." 

Feleki  started  forward,  then  halted  and  turned 
away. 

As  Camille  reached  the  foot  of  the  steps  leading 
to  the  stage,  she  paused.  Her  blood  was  tingling 
through  her  veins  and  she  was  swayed  by  the  ex 
citement  that  she  tried  to  suppress.  She  mounted 
the  steps  and  as  she  came  into  view,  she  halted,  and 
her  eyes  slowly  strayed  over  the  audience. 

A    murmur    of    astonishment    and   pleasure    went 


236  THE     FLAME 

round.  Gwendolyn,  with  a  stifled  exclamation,  half 
rose  from  her  chair  and  fell  back  again.  She  turned 
to  Jean  Marie.  He  sat  rigid  and  white. 

"  Is  this  the  ordeal?  "  she  faintly  asked. 

"  Yes."  He  forced  the  strained,  unnatural  tone. 
His  eyes  were  angrily  fixed  on  Camille.  She  was 
sparkling  with  diamonds  from  head  to  foot,  and  he 
had  not  a  franc  to  call  his  own ! 

As  the  director  raised  his  baton  and  the  music 
began,  Camille  went  slowly  to  the  footlights,  her  silk 
gown  shimmering,  her  jewels  blazing,  and  her  eyes 
aflame  with  pride  and  victory. 

The  gentleman  beside  Richard  asked  who  this 
goddess  was. 

"  Mademoiselle  Dubray,"  Mr.  Rolfe  answered,  de 
lighted  at  her  instantaneous  success,  "  but  I  would 
call  her  «  The  Flame.'  " 

Camille's  rich,  vibrant  tones  rang  out  with  all 
their  passion  in  the  love  song  from  "  Samson  and 
Delilah."  There  were  tenderness  and  ardor  in  her 
voice,  yet  beneath  it  was  the  suggestive  tinge  of  the 
heartless  conspirator,  the  true  Delilah.  Her  eyes 
rested  upon  Jean  Marie  with  a  languid  familiarity 
that  made  several  people  glance  in  his  direction. 
Not  once  did  she  look  at  Gwendolyn,  who  was  trem 
bling  and  shrinking  from  this  dazzling  woman. 

The  applause  that  greeted  the  song  came  with  a 
burst  that  echoed  and  reechoed  through  the  rooms. 

With  queenly  dignity,  Camille  bowed  twice  and 
stood  with  a  regal  smile  upon  her  proud  lips  until 
the  storm  subsided,  then  she  made  a  sign  to  the 
director,  and,  as  the  opening  bars  of  the  next  aria 


T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E  237 

were  played,  she  walked  slowly  towards  the  piano 
at  the  back  of  the  stage  and  stood  amongst  the 
greens  and  dainty  flowers.  Presently  her  voice 
floated  out  with  glory  and  triumph.  Her  eyes  were 
riveted  on  Jean  Marie  and  the  meaning  in  them  was 
poignantly  significant.  She  sang: 

'  To-night !     Samson  makes  his  obeisance, 
This  eve  at  my  feet  he  will  lie ; 
Now  the  hour  of  my  vengeance  hastens : 
Our  Gods  I  shall  soon  glorify ! ' 

While  the  orchestra  played  the  intervening  bars, 
she  came  a  few  steps  nearer  the  footlights,  and  went 
on  with  added  fervor: 

' '  O  Love,  of  thy  might  let  me  borrow ! 
Pour  thy  poison  thro'  Samson's  heart ! 
Let  him  be  bound  before  the  morrow, 
A  captive  to  my  matchless  art ! 
In  his  soul  he  no  longer  would  cherish 
The  passion  he  wishes  were  dead; 
Can  a  flame  like  that  ever  perish, 
Evermore  by  remembrance  fed? 
He  rests  my  slave ;  his  feats  belie  him ! 
My  brethren  fear  with  vain  alarms, 
I  only,  of  all,  I  defy  him, 
I  hold  him  fast  within  my  arms ! ' ' 

She  sang  on  to  the  end  of  the  aria,  coming  step 
by  step  nearer  the  footlights.  Her  eyes  left  Jean 
Marie  in  quick  flashes,  only  to  return  with  a  new 
stinging  significance. 

Gwendolyn's    gaze    did    not    leave    Camille.     She 


238  T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E 

feared  the  woman,  she  was  jealous  of  her,  and  yet 
she  was  fascinated  by  her  wondrous  beauty,  her 
rich  voice,  and  her  irresistible  magnetism.  Could  it 
be  that  Jean  Marie  had  felt  nothing  more  than  a 
passing  fancy  for  this  woman?  Could  any  man 
withstand  her  power  when  Gwendolyn  was  so  un 
willingly  attracted?  She  was  a  blaze  of  light  and 
life,  and  Gwendolyn  tore  her  eyes  from  the  scarlet 
woman  and  studied  the  contrast  between  herself  and 
Camille.  Gwendolyn's  gown  was  girlishly  made  of 
soft  white  silk.  Her  only  ornaments  were  ropes  of 
pearls  wound  once  around  her  slender  throat  and 
strings  of  the  same  gems  were  entwined  in  her  fluffy 
golden  hair.  Could  she  with  her  simplicity  hold 
Jean  Marie  from  this  radiant  siren?  Would  he  not 
yield  to  her  glorious  beauty  and  attraction?  Had 
he  already  yielded?  Her  muscles  tightened  with  a 
jerk.  She  turned  to  him,  and  saw  with  a  sudden 
start  that  there  was  fear  in  his  eyes  as  well  as  in 
tense  admiration.  She  remembered  that  there  had 
been  fear  in  his  eyes  when  she  had  found  him  pacing 
the  music-room  before  the  guests  had  arrived.  '  What 
power  had  this  woman  to  frighten  him?  Gwendolyn 
shrank  from  him,  trembling.  For  the  first  time, 
she  realized  fully  the  alienship  between  herself  and 
the  Prince  of  which  Richard  had  spoken.  This 
scarlet  Circe  had  some  connection  with  his  life.  She 
knew  it. 

Camille's  song  ended  and  the  enthusiastic  applause 
was  repeated.  She  acknowledged  the  ovation  with 
the  same  queenly  dignity  and  left  the  stage.  The 
applause  continued,  but  she  did  not  return. 


THE     FLAME  239 

Gwendolyn  glanced  again  at  Jean  Marie,  but  he 
avoided  her  eyes. 

"  Who  is  this  divine  creature?  "  a  gentleman  asked, 
leaning  across  to  Gwendolyn. 

"  I  don't  know,'*  she  answered  with  an  effort. 
"  My  brother  engaged  her." 

"  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  Your  Highness,"  the 
lady  sitting  back  of  Jean  Marie  said  mischievously. 
"  Do  you  know  her?  Who  is  she?  " 

"  I  know  her  slightly.  She  is  an  opera  singer 
from  Paris,"  he  answered  in  a  strained  tone. 

Gwendolyn  half  turned  her  back  on  him  and  began 
to  converse  animatedly  with  the  gentleman  beside  her. 
The  Prince  knew  that  she  was  avoiding  him. 

Feleki  was  next  on  the  programme,  and  Cavaro- 
dossi  stayed  with  him  until  they  reached  the  steps  at 
the  foot  of  the  stage. 

"Be  brave,"  Mario  said  gently.  "Don't  think 
of  this  dangerous  singer.  Play  to  your  Diane." 

Janos  pressed  his  hand.  "  I'll  try,"  he  mur 
mured.  "  But  I  don't  know  how  I'll  play,  my  emo 
tions  are  so  overwrought."  He  went  up  on  the 
stage,  followed  by  his  accompanist. 

He  was  given  a  prolonged  and  heartfelt  greeting, 
which  he  scarcely  heard,  so  intent  he  was  on  master 
ing  himself.  The  first  notes  he  drew  of  the  "  In 
troduction  and  Rondo  Capriccioso  "  by  Saint-Saens 
were  almost  timid,  but  presently  he  forgot  Camille 
and  played  to  his  ideal  Diane,  as  he  did  at  every 
concert.  When  the  great  applause  had  ceased  and 
he  had  given  an  encore,  he  left  the  stage  and  found 
Camile  standing  in  the  doorway  at  the  end  of  the 


240  T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E 

passage.  As  he  went  towards  her,  she  exclaimed  in 
broken  tones: 

"  Janos  !  Janos  !  "  then  she  turned  and  walked 
away.  How  his  soul,  his  art  had  developed  since 
she  had  left  him !  She  was  proud  of  him !  She 
gloried  in  his  triumph,  and  she  knew  that  it  was  the 
love  he  had  felt  for  her  that  had  awakened  this  great 
feeling  and  passion  in  his  art.  The  loss  of  her  ha.d 
broken  his  heart  and  he  was  expressing  his  un- 
happiness  and  desperation  with  his  violin.  She  went 
back  into  the  dressing-room  and  sat  by  Cavarodossi, 
who  watched  her  changing  countenance  with  uneasi 
ness. 

Janos  entered  and  received  the  congratulations 
of  De  Lucia  and  the  few  who  were  in  the  room.  He 
did  not  glance  towards  Camille.  She  felt  a  sudden 
tightening  in  her  throat  and  tears  were  forcing  them 
selves  to  her  eyes.  He  would  not  look  at  her,  but  she 
might  have  been  his  honored  wife !  Jean  Marie  had 
come  between  them,  poisoned  her  mind,  and  made  her 
worthy  only  of  Feleki's  disdain.  And  Janos  had 
asked  her  not  to  denounce  the  Prince  publicly!  A 
storm  of  indignation,  misery  and  hatred  of  Jean 
Marie  swept  through  her,  and  she  sprang  to  her  feet, 
impatient  for  her  victory  and  his  ruin. 

Cavarodossi  understood,  and  rising  laid  his  hand 
on  her  arm. 

"  You  mustn't  do  it,"  he  said.  "  Remember  Bour 
bon  is  not  the  only  one  concerned." 

Drawing  away,  she  went  to  the  dresser.  She  was 
stifling,  desperate. 

Cavarodossi  glanced  at  Feleki.     No,  he  would  not 


THE     FLAME  241 

ask  his  aid  until  Janos  had  given  his  second  solo. 
But  would  this  be  too  late? 

Camille  was  watching  Mario  in  the  mirror.  "  We 
are  to  sing  next,  aren't  we?  "  she  said  with  a  sudden 
calmness,  turning  to  him  with  her  sweetest,  most  en 
trancing  smile. 

He  gave  her  a  quick  glance  and  hesitated.  "  Yes," 
he  said. 

The  director  entered,  and,  after  having  the  final 
understanding  with  Camille  and  Cavarodossi  con 
cerning  the  portion  of  the  act  to  be  given,  went  back 
to  his  place.  Presently  the  orchestra  began  the  in 
troduction  to  the  last  act  of  "  La  Tosca."  The  song 
of  the  shepherd  boy  was  rendered  by  an  Italian  girl 
with  a  mezzo-soprano  voice.  She  stood  back  in  the 
hall  to  give  the  distant  tone.  Then  Cavarodossi 
went  upon  the  stage,  followed  by  the  basso  tak 
ing  the  role  of  the  jailer.  Mario's  singing  of  "  E 
lucevan  le  stelle  "  was  greeted  with  enthusiastic  ap 
plause. 

Gwendolyn,  under  the  charm  of  his  passionate 
voice,  forgot  Jean  Marie  and  Camille,  and  leaned 
forward  eagerly  drinking  in  his  clear,  ringing  tones. 
She  felt  that  not  until  now  had  she  understood  his 
tenderness  and  the  depth  of  his  soul.  His  closing 
line,  "  Ne'er  was  life  so  dear  to  me,  no,  never!  "  was 
sung  with  the  desperate  cry  of  the  doomed  man  who 
was  to  be  shot  within  the  hour. 

Jean  Marie  watched  her  with  a  sinking  heart. 
Cavarodossi  was,  indeed,  a  dangerous  rival.  The 
Prince  never  had  seen  on  Gwendolyn's  face  the  look 
that  was  there  now. 


242  THE     FLAME 

Camille  made  her  entrance,  and,  with  a  rude  shock, 
Gwendolyn  was  disillusioned. 

The  scene  between  Tosca  and  Cavarodossi  was  ren 
dered  with  fervor  and  intensity,  being  enhanced  and 
vivified  by  the  dramatic  action  of  the  two  singers. 
The  act  was  given  until  the  end  of  the  duet  between 
the  tenor  and  soprano,  which  Tosca  finishes  with, 
"  Thine  eyes  I'll  fondly  close  with  countless  kisses, 
and  loving  words  I'll  whisper  in  thine  ears."  The 
jailer  appeared,  saying,  "It  is  the  hour!"  and  the 
scene  closed. 

A  tumultuous  ovation  was  given  the  singers  and 
the  orchestra.  Camille  stood  quietly  looking  over 
the  audience  with  a  radiant  smile  on  her  lips  and  her 
eyes  sparkling  with  pride. 

Cavarodossi  thought  of  no  one  but  Gwendolyn, 
and,  as  their  glances  met,  he  reddened,  seeing  her 
joy  at  his  success.  He  never  had  sung  better,  and 
he  knew  that  his  voice  had  made  an  eloquent  appeal, 
since  she  could  think  of  his  victory  with  Camille 
present.  The  two  singers  left  the  stage,  but  were 
recalled  several  times.  This  ended  the  first  part  of 
the  programme. 

Gwendolyn  was  lavishly  complimented  on  the  bril 
liant  success  of  her  musicale,  but  the  strongest  in 
terest  was  centered  in  Camille.  As  long  as  she 
could  endure  it,  Gwendolyn  remained  in  her  chair; 
but  at  last  she  rose,  and  without  speaking  to  Jean 
Marie,  who  was  nervously  conversing  with  two  ladies, 
stepped  before  him,  and  went  into  the  next  room 
with  some  of  her  other  guests.  As  she  passed  Rich- 


T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E  243 

ard,  she  noticed  that  he  seemed  very  happy  an 
swering  the  many  questions  that  were  being  asked 
concerning  the  mysterious  diva.  She  heard  him 
say,  laughingly :  "  Very  well.  I'll  do  it !  "  and  he 
left  the  group  of  men  and  went  out  into  the  hall. 

Mr.  Rolfe  went  back  into  the  dressing-room  in 
search  of  Camille,  and  found  she  was  surrounded  by 
the  musicians.  She  rose  as  Richard  entered,  and 
the  men  drew  back. 

"  Are  you  and  your  friends  satisfied?  "  she  asked. 

"  More  than  satisfied.  Every  one  is  enchanted. 
Some  gentlemen  have  sent  me  to  ask  if  you  will  kindly 
sing  a  solo  at  the  close  of  the  programme,  after  your 
duet  with  De  Lucia.  They  want  to  leave  with  your 
voice  alone  resounding  in  their  ears.  Isn't  that  a 
compliment?  " 

She  smiled.  "Yes."  A  quick  light  flashed  into 
her  eyes.  "  But  I  have  a  suggestion  to  make.  In 
stead  of  singing  again,  I  should  be  pleased  to  give 
a  dramatic  recitation.  May  I?  " 

Richard  did  not  discern  the  cunning  in  her  smile, 
but  Cavarodossi,  who  had  drawn  near,  heard  and  un 
derstood.  Could  he  subdue  her?  Could  Feleki? 

"  That  would  make  a  rousing  hit !  "  Richard  said, 
enthusiastically.  "  Shall  I  tell  them  what's  com 
ing?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  wish." 

"  They  are  all  questioning  me  concerning  you," 
he  went  on.  "  Every  one  wants  to  know  your  name 
and  all  about  you." 

A  sudden  cold  gleam  shot  into  her  eyes.     "  Tell 


244  THE     FLAME 

them  I  have  no  name,"  she  said,  "  and  there  is  noth 
ing  to  relate  about  me,  except  that  circumstances 
have  made  me  no  better  than  —  a  vampire !  " 

Her  tone  and  her  eyes  made  Richard  most  uncom 
fortable,  and  he  looked  at  her  searchingly.  "  '  A 
vampire ! '  '  he  repeated,  thoughtf uly.  "  And  who 
is  your  unfortunate  victim?  " 

"  You  will  know  before  long,  Mr.  Rolfe,  but  surely 
it  is  not  your  own  gracious  self." 

"  You  reassure  me."  He  forced  a  smile,  and  as 
he  walked  away,  began  to  reflect. 

When  Richard  left  the  room,  Cavarodossi  went  to 
her. 

"  I  heard  you  telling  Mr.  Rolfe  of  the  dramatic 
recitation  you  wish  to  give,"  he  said.  "  Are  you 
still  determined  to  make  a  horrid  scene?  It  is  be 
neath  your  womanly  dignity.  Such  an  expose  would 
be  common  melodrama." 

She  drew  herself  up  haughtily,  then  laughed. 
"  You  don't  like  cheap  things,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No,  and  I  don't  want  to  see  you  sacrifice  the 
respect  and  admiration  that  these  people  feel  for 
you.  And  haven't  you  hurt  Janos  enough  al 
ready? " 

She  held  out  her  hands  beseechingly.  "  Don't 
speak  of  him.  Please !  "  she  murmured. 

"  I  must.  Don't  increase  his  unhappiness. 
Think  of  the  years  that  you  were  joyous  in  your 
new,  gilded  world,  while  he  was  alone  with  nothing 
but  miserable  memory  and  despair.  For  the  sake  of 
avenging  yourself  on  Bourbon,  don't  close  your  heart 
against  your  womanly  nobility." 


THE     FLAME  245 

Camille  caught  her  breath,  and  swinging  round, 
joined  the  musicians. 

Cavarodossi  watched  her  and  listened  to  her  friv 
olous  jesting  and  sparkling  humor,  but  the  two  crim 
son  spots  on  her  cheeks  and  the  almost  painful  bril 
liancy  of  her  eyes,  gave  him  a  new  hope.  He  went 
to  Feleki,  who  was  sitting  in  the  farther  corner  with 
his  face  half  turned  to  the  wall,  silently  and  caress 
ingly  fingering  his  violin. 

"  I  believe  we  have  conquered,"  Mario  said  to  him. 
"  I  don't  think  she  will  speak." 

Janos  held  out  his  hand  and  Cavarodossi  sym 
pathetically  grasped  the  cold,  trembling  fingers. 
He  sat  down  beside  Feleki  and  did  not  leave  him 
again. 

The  second  part  of  the  programme  was  to  be 
opened  with  an  orchestral  selection. 

Gwendolyn  had  no  intention  of  going  back  to  Jean 
Marie.  Her  doubts  and  fears  concerning  him  had 
risen  again  with  redoubled  force.  She  could  see 
plainly  his  nervous,  unnatural  manner  and  she  knew 
that  he  was  afraid  of  the  woman.  She  did  not  want 
to  be  near  him,  because  to-night  he  filled  her  with 
the  same  dread  as  did  Camille,  but  the  lady  beside 
her  said  with  a  significant,  knowing  smile: 

"  His  Highness  is  looking  for  you,  my  dear. 
Don't  let  us  detain  you." 

Gwendolyn  glanced  down  the  long  rooms  and  saw 
that  Jean  Marie  was  watching  her. 

"  He  is  holding  the  chair  for  you,  no  doubt,"  the 
match-making  lady  added. 

Gwendolyn  felt  a  sudden  angry  disgust  with  her- 


246  THE     FLAME 

self  for  her  weakness.  She  was  no  longer  a  child 
and  she  would  make  him  understand  it.  With  new 
strength  in  her  heart,  she  rose  and  went  back  to 
him.  He  forced  a  bright  smile  as  she  sat  down,  and 
pressing  her  fingers,  said  in  an  undertone: 

"  Don't  go  away  and  leave  me  in  darkness,  sun  of 
my  life.  I  want  you  with  me  always." 

She  gravely  looked  him  full  in  the  eyes,  but  did 
not  answer,  and  his  heart  beat  fast. 

The  director  gave  the  last  quick  glance  over  his 
orchestra,  raised  his  baton,  and  "  The  Dance  of  the 
Hours  "  from  "  La  Gioconda  "  began. 

Gwendolyn  hardly  heard  the  sweet  music,  nor  did 
she,  like  the  others,  watch  the  graceful,  magnetic 
director,  whose  wealth  of  Titian  hair  tossed  until 
it  seemed  to  vibrate  to  the  music.  When  the  selec 
tion  was  ended,  the  listeners  responded  enthusias 
tically. 

The  next  number  was  three  Neapolitan  songs  by 
De  Lucia,  which  were  heartily  appreciated,  then 
Feleki  appeared  with  his  precious  Guarnerius  and 
thrilled  the  audience  with  Wieniawski's  "  Faust  Fan- 
tasie."  His  playing  was  rich  with  feeling,  delicacy, 
personality,  and  after  he  had  finished,  a  second 
passed  before  the  people  burst  into  fervid  applause. 
For  an  encore,  he  played  the  "  Mazurek  de  Concert  " 
by  de  Kontski.  The  demonstration  continued  long 
after  he  had  left  the  stage,  but  he  would  not  re 
turn. 

"  Feleki  is  unusually  pale  to-night,'3  the  man  said, 
beside  Gwendolyn.  "Is  he  ill?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  and  wondered  why 


THE     FLAME  247 

Jean  Marie  moved  restlessly  when  the  violinist  was 
mentioned. 

The  last  number  on  the  programme  was  the  so 
prano  and  baritone  duet  from  "  Rigoletto,"  "  Tutte  le 
feste  at  tempio." 

Like  a  danger  signal  to  Gwendolyn,  Camille's  scar 
let  gown  swept  into  view  and  it  was  a  stinging  pain 
to  hear  the  applause  that  greeted  her,  yet  Gwendolyn 
joined  with  the  others,  conscious  that  Jean  Marie 
was  watching  her. 

Camille's  exquisite  tones  rang  out  with  anguish 
and  shame  in  the  telling  of  "  Gilda's  "  story  to  her 
unhappy  father,  and  De  Lucia's  full,  resonant  voice 
was  in  splendid  harmony  with  hers.  It  was  a  most 
effective  duet,  and  was  enthusiastically  received. 
The  singers  left  the  stage,  but  the  audience  did  not 
move,  because  the  word  had  gone  round  that  Camille 
was  to  give  a  dramatic  recitation.  When  Jean 
Marie  heard  of  it,  his  blood  leaped  through  his  veins. 
Terror  robbed  him  of  his  strength,  and  he  sat  mo 
tionless. 

Camille  went  back  into  the  dressing-room  with  De 
Lucia.  Her  eyes  were  burning,  her  cheeks  were 
flushed  and  her  breath  was  coming  hard  and  fast. 
She  walked  the  full  length  of  the  room  and  back 
again.  As  she  reached  the  door  leading  into  the 
hall,  she  abruptly  halted  and  set  her  muscles  firm. 

Feleki,  with  his  emotions  in  a  tumult,  sprang  to 
her  side. 

"  Diane  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  You  mustn't  do  this  ! 
You  mustn't !  " 

She  shrank  from  him  and  turned  her  head  away. 


248  THE     FLAME 

"  For  my  sake,  Diane ! "  he  went  on  hurriedly. 
"  For  me !  It  is  the  only  favor  I  have  asked  since 
the  day  you  tore  the  joy  from  my  life." 

A  stifled  sob  broke  from  her  and  she  leaned  against 
the  door,  but  the  next  moment  she  was  erect,  remem 
bering  that  it  was  Jean  Marie  who  had  ruined  her 
life.  She  would  not  listen  to  Janos.  She  would 
not  let  him  rob  her  of  this  triumphant  moment. 
Jean  Marie  was  in  her  grasp  and  she  would  crush 
him.  Without  a  glance  at  Janos,  she  darted  past 
him. 

He  caught  her  arm.  "  Diane !  For  me !  For 
me !  "  he  begged,  but  she  would  not  heed  him.  He 
stood  still,  uncertain  what  to  do.  She  was  out  of 
sight.  He  dashed  after  her,  and  reached  the  pas 
sage  just  as  she  was  about  to  mount  the  steps  leading 
to  the  stage. 

"  Diane !  "  he  called  again,  but  she  did  not  turn. 
In  his  desperation,  he  looked  round  him  for  aid. 
His  violin  was  on  a  chair  beside  him,  where  he  had 
left  it  after  playing  his  last  solo.  He  caught  up  the 
instrument,  and  as  she  reached  the  stage,  his  Guar- 
nerius  sang  out  in  a  tender,  ardent  appeal.  She 
abruptly  paused.  The  tones  changed  and  became 
so  divinely  sweet  and  delicate  that  all  who  heard, 
held  their  breath  and  listened.  The  pleading  of  a 
poetic,  idealistic  soul  was  quivering  on  the  strings 
in  a  love  call,  a  tone  picture  of  sentiment.  It  was  a 
song  that  Janos  had  composed  for  Diane  when  they 
were  sweethearts  in  Paris,  his  musical  description 
of  her,  composed  to  the  words  of  an  octastich  by 
Pierre  Rogiers. 


THE     FLAME  249 

Camille  took  a  staggering  step  forward,  pressed 
her  hands  over  her  eyes,  and  swinging  round,  stood 
with  her  back  to  the  audience. 

A  low  exclamation  broke  from  Jean  Marie.  He 
bent  forward,  clutched  the  chair  in  front  of  him,  and 
sat  rigid. 

A  hush  had  fallen  over  the  rooms.  Only  the  violin 
spoke,  and  with  such  caressing  softness  and  love  that 
it  seemed  like  celestial  harmony. 

The  bitterness  and  hatred  in  Camille's  heart  were 
crushed  by  the  memory  of  Janos's  great,  noble  love 
for  her,  and  while  she  stood  listening  to  his  soul's 
outpouring,  the  triumph  was  forgotten  and  her 
proud  figure  drooped  like  a  wilted  flower.  As  the 
violin  sang  on,  she  lived  once  more  in  her  pure  days 
of  poverty  and  the  sweet  touch  of  Janos's  lips  and 
his  tender  words  of  love  were  again  a  reality.  The 
violin  was  silent,  then  it  began  again  the  prelude  to 
the  song.  Slowly  faltering,  Camille  turned  to  the 
audience.  The  glow  in  her  eyes  had  softened,  and 
her  face  was  lighted  with  tenderness.  She  began  the 
song  that  had  been  dear  to  them  both,  and  her  voice 
had  lost  the  proud,  victorious  ring. 

'  Who  has  not  looked  upon  her  brow 

Has  never  dreamed  of  perfect  bliss: 
But  once  to  see  her  is  to  know 
What  beauty,  what  perfection,  is. 

Her  charms  are  of  the  growth  of  heaven, 
She  decks  the  night  with  hues  of  day: 

Blest  are  the  eyes  to  which  'tis  given 
On  her  to  gaze  the  soul  away ! ' ' 


250  THE     FLAME 

After  the  song  was  ended,  the  violin  sang  on,  then 
gently  stopped.  There  was  no  applause;  no  one 
moved.  Camille  turned  and  held  out  her  arms  to 
Janos,  but  he  disappeared  into  the  hall.  With  a  low, 
broken  sob,  she  hurried  down  the  steps.  When  she 
reached  the  dressing-room,  she  found  him  in  tears, 
with  Cavarodossi's  protecting  arm  around  his  shoul 
ders.  She  sprang  forward  with  the  wild  cry, 
"  Janos !  "  and  fell  at  his  feet,  unconscious. 

Her  heart-broken  cry  was  heard  by  the  audience, 
and  there  was  quick  confusion.  Gwendolyn,  deeply 
stirred  by  the  music  and  agitated  by  the  scene,  turned 
to  Jean  Marie,  who  stood  white  and  rigid,  clutching 
the  back  of  a  chair.  Combined  with  the  terror  in 
his  face,  were  jealous  rage  and  hatred,  and  she 
shrank  back  from  the  distorted  features.  What  con 
nection  had  he  with  this  drama? 

Richard's  quick  presence  of  mind  calmed  the  peo 
ple.  That  was  the  scene  the  fascinating  singer  had 
prepared,  he  explained.  She  wanted  to  leave  them 
with  a  vivid  memory  of  her.  But  Gwendolyn  no 
ticed  that  her  brother  was  pale. 

The  guests  were  slow  in  leaving  after  the  refresh 
ments  had  been  served.  All  were  discussing  the  in 
teresting  musicale  and  the  sensational  finale.  Jean 
Marie  was  one  of  the  first  to  go,  and  he  said  good 
night  to  Gwendolyn  while  she  was  surrounded  by 
her  friends.  She  did  not  extend  her  hand  to  him 
and  he  could  not  force  himself  to  look  into  the  grave 
blue  eyes  that  were  intently  searching  his  face. 
Cavarodossi  was  not  seen  after  the  musicale  had 
ended,  nor  were  Feleki  and  Camille. 


THE     FLAME  251 

When  the  last  guest  had  gone,  neither  Richard  nor 
Gwendolyn  returned  to  the  drawing-rooms,  but  he 
followed  her  upstairs  to  her  room. 

"  It  was  a  great  success,  wasn't  it?  "  he  said. 

4  Yes,"  she  murmured,  turning  from  him  and  un 
winding  the  pearls  from  her  throat.  "  What  be 
came  of  Signor  Cavarodossi?  " 

"  The  singer  fainted  after  her  wild  cry,  and  Mario 
took  her  home." 

Gwendolyn  looked  back  to  her  brother.  "  Then 
it  was  real !  "  she  said,  in  a  low,  unsteady  tone. 

"  Yes,  and  I  would  give  a  good  deal  to  understand 
it  all.  I  was  watching  Bourbon  and  there  was  a 
world  of  meaning  in  his  white  face.  There  is  some 
thing  back  of  this,  Gwen,  and  I  have  been  figuring 
up  on  it  and  taking  notice.  I  don't  like  that  fellow, 
and  I  wish  something  would  drive  him  from  the  town. 
I  believe  that  poor,  beautiful  woman  could  tell  a 
tragic  story,  if  she  would,  and  so  could  Feleki. 
This  has  been  a  warning  for  you,  Gwen,  and  you 
must  study  the  whole  scene  from  a  disinterested, 
practical  point  of  view.  But  go  to  bed  now,  little 
one.  Good-night !  " 

Tears  trembled  on  her  lashes  as  Richard  folded 
her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her.  When  he  was  gone 
and  the  door  closed,  she  threw  herself  on  the  bed 
and  wept  until  morning.  What  a  dismal  end  to  the 
brilliant  entertainment  she  had  taken  such  pride  in 
arranging ! 


CHAPTER  XIX 

did  not  speak,  but  her  head  fell  for- 
ward  on  Cavarodossi's  shoulder,  as  he  raised  her 
in  his  arms  and  put  her  into  the  motor-car,  waiting 
in  front  of  the  Rolfe  home.  Both  were  silent  on 
their  way  to  the  hotel.  She  weakly  leaned  against 
Mario  and  her  hand  rested  in  his.  He  sat  still  with 
his  eyes  closed.  Her  wild,  heartbroken  cry  was 
ringing  in  his  ears  and  Feleki's  misery  and  collapse 
were  haunting  him.  His  heart  was  overflowing  with 
sympathy  and  pity  for  the  estranged  lovers,  for  he 
believed  they  never  could  be  happy  apart  or  together, 
because  the  memory  of  Camille's  life  would  be  ever 
present  in  Feleki's  mind. 

When  they  reached  the  hotel,  Mario  assisted  her 
to  her  room  and  endeavored  to  cheer  her  with  gentle 
words. 

Celeste  was  surprised  and  anxious  when  she  saw 
her  radiant  mistress  return  pale  and  crushed  with 
grief.  While  she  hastened  to  remove  Camille's  jew 
els  and  gown,  Mario  waited  in  the  reception-room. 
He  could  not  play,  nor  sing,  nor  do  anything  but 
think  of  the  dramatic  scene  he  had  just  witnessed. 
He  had  not  seen  Jean  Marie,  but  he  could  well  imagine 
the  Prince's  alarm,  and  he  had  heard  a  servant  say 
that  His  Highness  of  Bourbon  was  strangely  ter 
rorized.  Cavarodossi  was  impatient  to  know  if 

252 


THE     FLAME  253 

Gwendolyn  was  at  last  aware  of  Jean  Marie's  du 
plicity,  but  he  could  not  question  her.  His  thoughts 
were  interrupted  by  Camille's  appearance,  and  he 
was  deeply  impressed  not  only  by  her  beauty,  but 
by  the  unnatural  pallor  of  her  face,  and  by  her  eyes, 
which  had  become  mild  and  lusterless.  She  was 
wearing  a  loose,  flowing  robe  of  soft,  white  silk,  and 
her  beautiful  wavy  black  hair  was  falling  over  her 
shoulders,  reaching  almost  to  her  knees. 

Mario  took  a  quick  step  towards  her.  "  Ca- 
mille !  "  he  exclaimed  with  compassion.  "  Pardon 
me !  Mademoiselle !  "  quickly  correcting  his  famil 
iarity. 

Tears  sprang  to  her  eyes.  Cavarodossi  treated 
her  with  the  same  respect  he  would  show  a  gentle 
woman,  but  did  he  understand  that  her  name  was 
the  byword  of  Bohemian  Paris?  Or  did  he  with  his 
great  soul  respect  her,  knowing  that  she  loathed  her 
degradation?  She  threw  herself  face  downward  on 
the  couch  and  Mario  heard  a  stifled  sob.  He  waited 
until  she  was  quiet,  then  he  noiselessly  took  his  hat 
and  started  towards  the  door.  As  he  turned  the 
knob,  she  raised  her  head. 

"  Signer  Cavarodossi,"  she  softly  said,  "  I  thank 
you  for  your  kindness  to  me.  I  never  can  forget 
you."  She  held  out  her  hand,  and  going  to  her, 
he  raised  it  to  his  lips  in  his  quiet,  courtly  manner. 

"  I  intend  that  Miss  Rolfe  shall  positively  under 
stand,"  she  added,  "  but  I  shan't  resort  to  the  com 
mon  melodrama  you  despise." 

"  I  have  faith  in  you,  Mademoiselle.  I  know  that 
you  will  not  yield  again  to  an  unkindly  impulse." 


254  THE     FLAME 

She  sadly  smiled  her  gratitude  and  Cavarodossi 
left.  For  several  hours  she  lay  still  with  her  face 
hidden  in  the  pillows.  All  of  her  past  life,  from  her 
childhood  to  the  present  day,  was  lived  again  in 
her  feverish,  overwrought  mind.  With  her  beauty 
she  had  risen  from  extreme  poverty  to  queenly  lux 
ury,  but  gladly  would  she  wipe  away  these  gilded 
years  to  be  again  the  idol  of  Janos's  heart.  She 
hated  herself  for  yielding  to  her  ambition.  Why 
had  she  not  realized  what  Jean  Marie  would  make 
of  her?  She  hated  the  mad  abandonment  in  her  na 
ture,  the  love  of  wealth  and  splendor  that  had  led 
her  into  wrongdoing.  She  wanted  to  be  the  humble 
Diane  once  more,  but  she  knew  that  her  glorious  reign 
as  queen  of  Bohemia  had  left  its  ineradicable  taint, 
its  feverish,  ambitious  unrest.  She  could  never  be 
again  the  innocent  girl  who  ran  away  with  the  Prince 
de  Bourbon,  the  thoughtless  child  whom  Janos  had 
adored.  With  a  fresh  pang  of  anguish,  she  heard 
his  violin  sing  the  idealistic  song  of  their  happy 
youth.  Recalling  the  second  verse,  her  cheeks 
burned  with  shame: 

"  Her  charms  are  of  the  growth  of  heaven. 

She  decks  the  night  with  hues  of  day : 
Blest  are  the  eyes  to  which  'tis  given 
On  her  to  gaze  the  soul  away !  " 

This  had  been  the  true  poetical  expression  of 
Janos's  thoughts  of  her!  What  was  there  in  her 
that  had  come  from  heaven?  .  .  .  Nothing! 
It  was  his  fanciful  belief.  She  had  proved  herself 


THE     FLAME  255 

to  be  of  the  earth  earthy  without  a  spark  of  divine 
aspiration.  She  loathed  herself  and  her  life,  be 
lieving  that  she  was  fit  to  belong  only  to  a  man  like 
Jean  Marie.  It  would  be  impossible  to  harm  him, 
because  he  was  far  less  honorable  than  she,  but  she 
felt  that  association  with  Janos  would  corrupt  him, 
would  rob  him  of  the  celestial  purity  of  his  soul  and 
his  art.  She  had  put  an  insurmountable  barrier  be 
tween  them.  After  regaining  consciousness  in  the 
Rolfe  home,  she  had  found  Cavarodossi  attending 
her.  In  an  obscure  corner,  Janos,  pale  and  trem 
bling,  was  sitting  in  a  forlorn  heap  with  his  hand 
kerchief  pressed  to  his  wet  eyes.  He  had  not  come 
to  assist  her,  and  she  knew  that  it  was  not  because 
his  heart  was  cold,  but  because  he  shrank  from  the 
polluted  touch  of  the  degraded  woman  he  had  once 
adored. 

Camille  buried  her  face  deeper  in  the  pillows  and 
gave  way  to  passionate,  hysterical  sobs. 

It  was  after  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  her 
reception-room  door  opened  and  Jean  Marie  stood  on 
the  threshold,  watching  her  with  glistening  blood 
shot  eyes.  His  white  face  had  a  haggard,  forbid 
ding  look,  and  his  hair  was  in  wild  disorder.  He 
came  into  the  room,  closed  the  door,  and  drawing  off 
his  overcoat,  flung  it  on  a  chair.  He  was  still  wear 
ing  his  evening  dress,  but  it  was  crumpled.  Camille 
did  not  move  until  he  stood  near  the  couch;  then 
she  looked  up.  He  saw  that  her  face  was  pale  and 
tear-stained  and  that  her  eyes  were  dull. 

She  was   surprised  at  his  coming  and  at  his   di- 


256  THE    FLAME 

sheveled  appearance,  but,  as  she  raised  herself  on 
her  elbow,  she  said  in  a  tone  that  was  familiarly  crisp 
and  taunting: 

"  You  are  an  early  riser,  Jean !  Or  haven't  you 
been  to  bed?  "  An  amused,  mocking  smile  curved 
her  lips,  but  her  eyes  did  not  brighten. 

Jean  Marie  shrank  from  her  cutting  tone.  He 
had  believed  that  he  would  find  her  crushed  and  spir 
itless,  and  he  had  intended  to  take  this  moment  in 
which  to  bend  her  to  his  will.  Perhaps  he  even  could 
induce  her  to  go  back  to  Paris,  but  he  saw  with  bit 
ter  disappointment  that  her  spirit  was  unbroken. 
She  was  searching  his  face  with  a  quiet  gaze,  and  he 
could  not  meet  her  eyes. 

"  What  do  you  want,  Jean  ?  "  she  slowly  asked. 

A  torrent  of  impetuous  questions  rose  to  his  lips, 
but  he  forced  them  down  and  simply  said :  "  I  have 
come  to  congratulate  you  on  your  success  last  night." 

She  smiled.  "  That  is  kind  of  you.  It  was  an 
artistic  triumph,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  snapped,  "  but  the  ending  was  very  dif 
ferent  from  the  one  you  had  planned." 

A  flash  of  pain  shot  across  her  face.  The  next  mo 
ment,  she  laughed  in  a  purring,  sarcastic  tone  that 
jarred  most  uncomfortably  on  his  unsteady  nerves. 

"  It  was  dramatic  and  unexpected,  wasn't  it?  "  she 
said,  lightly. 

He  was  fast  losing  the  slight  mastery  he  had  over 
himself,  and  with  a  sudden  burst  of  hateful  anger, 
exclaimed : 

"  You  have  tried  all  this  past  week  to  deceive  me, 


THE     FLAME  257 

but  I  knew  that  you  were  going  to  the  Rolfe  home  to 
ruin  me." 

Camille  rested  her  elbow  on  the  arm  of  the  couch 
and  supported  her  chin  in  the  palm  of  her  hand. 

"  Really,  Jean,  you  are  quite  clever !  "  she  said  and 
a  gleam  was  slowly  stealing  into  her  eyes.  "  Are 
you  sorry  that  you  owe  your  escape  to  Janos  ?  " 

The  Prince  took  a  quick  step  towards  her. 

"  Then  you  acknowledge  your  treachery !  " 

"  '  Treachery ! '  ''  she  echoed  and  laughed,  with  a 
toss  of  her  head,  adding  sarcastically :  "  I'm  sorry 
if  your  forewarning  gave  you  any  uneasiness." 

Her  cold,  contemptuous  tones  fired  him  with  a 
brutal  rage.  He  was  her  plaything, —  he  the  Prince 
of  Bourbon,  she  a  cafe  singer, —  a  hireling !  He 
could  have  crushed  her  as  she  lay  there  in  her  beauty, 
covered  with  her  luxuriant,  wavy  hair,  for  he  felt  that 
she  was  reveling  in  her  power  over  him.  She  had 
jewels,  luxury  for  which  she  could  pay,  and  he  was 
penniless,  depending  upon  her  for  support ! 

"  Where  did  you  get  all  the  jewels  you  wore  last 
night?"  he  suddenly  burst  forth.  "You  told  me 
when  I  left  Paris  that  you  had  sold  everything.  You 
lied  to  me !  " 

A  quick  sneer  rose  to  her  lips  and  she  studied  him 
with  angry  scorn.  She  had  given  him  all  she  had 
to  give,  and  yet  he  was  not  satisfied!  No  one  else 
had  lent  him  a  helping  hand  when  he  was  in  dis 
grace,  and  with  promises  of  undying  love,  he  had 
taken  all  she  had  offered.  Not  until  now  had  she 
fully  known  his  despicable  selfishness,  his  utter  disre 
gard  for  chivalry  and  honor. 


258  THE     FLAME 

The  disgust  and  scorn  in  her  face  stung  him  like 
a  lash,  and  a  desperate  rage  was  kindled  by  his 
wounded  vanity.  He  had  borne  enough.  This  lowly 
creature  that  he  had  dragged  from  the  streets  of 
Paris  should  not  dominate  him  any  longer.  Only 
Janos  had  saved  him  from  public  disgrace  at  the 
Rolfe  home  and  he  had  no  intention  of  being  assisted 
the  second  time  by  this  Hungarian  fiddler  he  de 
spised.  If  Camille  was  out  of  the  way,  he  could  win 
Gwendolyn  and  live  in  respected  ease  the  rest  of  his 
life.  And  it  was  this  woman  of  lowly  birth  who  was 
defying  him, —  this  upstart  commoner  placing  her 
self  in  the  path  of  a  Prince !  His  mind  was  still  over 
wrought  and  unbalanced  by  the  fear  he  had  experi 
enced  at  the  musicale,  and  as  he  glanced  again  at 
Camille,  and  saw  the  contemptuous  disgust  in  her  face, 
rage  overpowered  his  reason.  The  end  had  come ! 
As  if  his  throat  were  parched,  he  said  hoarsely: 

"  I'm  thirsty.     Give  me  a  drink." 

She  studied  him  a  moment  with  puzzled  surprise, 
then  slowly  rose,  and  going  to  the  closet,  brought  out 
a  bottle  of  wine  and  a  glass,  and  put  them  on  the 
table.  She  watched  him,  wonderingly,  while  he  drew 
the  cork.  His  hands  were  trembling  and  blood  was 
mounting  to  his  face.  He  filled  the  glass,  but  his 
hand  was  so  unsteady  that  he  spilt  some  wine.  Sud 
denly,  he  said  with  an  effort: 

"  Take  some,  Camille.  I  don't  want  to  drink 
alone." 

With  a  puzzled  frown,  she  turned  away  and  went 
back  to  the  closet.  He  quickly  took  from  his  pocket 
the  little  vial  he  always  carried  and  emptied  the  con- 


THE     FLAME  259 

tents  into  his  wine.  As  she  returned  to  the  table, 
with  another  glass,  he  handed  his  to  her,  but  did  not 
raise  his  eyes.  She  noticed  that  his  breath  was  com 
ing  hard  and  fast.  With  her  mystified  glance  rest 
ing  on  him,  she  raised  the  glass  to  her  lips.  His  eyes 
met  hers  with  a  terrible,  expectant  glare,  and  she  saw 
her  doom  in  his  face.  With  a  low  cry,  she  blanched 
and  staggered  back,  but  the  next  instant  she  was 
erect,  fired  with  a  desperate  fury.  He  had  placed 
death  in  her  hands  !  This  scoundrel  who  had  ruined 
her  life,  who  had  enticed  her  from  the  man  she  loved 
and  made  her  a  woman  to  despise,  was  about  to  take 
her  life,  because  she  was  in  his  way !  She  had  given 
him  all,  she  had  sold  herself  to  raise  money  for  his 
extravagant  demands,  and  now,,  that  she  was  no 
longer  necessary  to  him,  because  he  could  marry  an 
heiress,  he  would  kill  her  to  gain  his  liberty !  She 
glanced  from  him  to  the  glass  she  held,  and  back 
again  to  him.  She  would  make  him  drink  this  wine, 
but  —  was  it  worth  the  punishment  she  would  re 
ceive  for  the  crime?  Her  lips  curled  as  she  saw  him 
standing  before  her  a  trembling  coward.  Her  proud 
womanhood  was  aroused  and  she  studied  him  with 
superb  disdain.  He  was  nothing  but  a  treacherous 
weakling  and  his  life  belonged  to  her.  She  would 
let  him  live  and  suffer  with  humiliation  for  every 
wrong  he  ever  had  done.  She  would  take  him  back 
to  Paris  and  hold  him  up  for  public  ridicule.  He 
was  in  her  power  now,  as  he  never  had  been  before. 
Tossing  back  her  head,  she  laughed  with  sarcastic 
disgust,  and  he  shrank  from  her  cutting  scorn. 

She  went  to  the  window,  threw  out  the  wine  and 


260  T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E 

the  glass  and  turning  back,  they  eyed  each  other  with 
a  desperate  challenge.  Then  Jean  Marie's  eyes  fell. 

As  she  closed  the  window,  she  said  in  a  low  but 
unsteady  tone: 

"  I  have  saved  your  life,  Jean.  Now  you  had  bet 
ter  go." 

He  drew  a  sharp  breath,  and  blood  rose  to  his  face 
and  fled  again.  Without  giving  him  another  glance, 
she  proudly  swept  past  him,  and  going  into  her  bed 
room,  closed  the  door  and  locked  it.  For  a  space,  he 
stood  staring  wildly  at  the  door,  then  horror  and 
fear  swept  over  him,  and  he  staggered  back  and  fell 
on  the  couch. 


CHAPTER  XX 

rilHE  morning  after  the  musicale,  Gwendolyn  went 
A  down  to  breakfast,  pale  and  silent.  Her  eyes 
were  dull  and  bore  traces  of  tears  and  of  the  sleep 
less  night  she  had  passed.  As  she  entered,  Richard 
glanced  up  from  his  morning  paper,  and  a  look  of 
pain  flashed  across  his  face  when  he  saw  her  suffer 
ing.  She  went  to  kiss  him  as  usual,  and  he  impul 
sively  drew  her  down  in  a  close  embrace.  Her  lips 
trembled,  but  she  repressed  the  tears.  He  knew  that 
her  faith  in  Jean  Marie  had  been  shaken,  and  he 
happily  believed  that  the  Frenchman's  love  would  be 
rejected. 

During  breakfast,  she  made  a  dismal  effort  to  be 
sociable,  and  when  Richard  went  away,  he  was 
grieved  over  her  distress,  yet  hopeful,  for  he  thought 
that  she  would  now  turn  to  Cavarodossi  and  more 
deeply  appreciate  his  worth. 

Left  alone,  Gwendolyn  returned  to  her  room  and 
forlornly  sank  into  a  chair  near  the  window.  She 
knew  that  Jean  Marie  had  not  been  truthful  in  the  ex 
planation  of  his  acquaintance  with  the  beautiful 
singer.  There  was  something  tragic  and  pitiful  back 
of  that  stirring  scene  the  night  before  and,  as  Rich 
ard  had  said,  it  had  been  a  warning  to  her.  She  had 
done  as  he  had  advised, —  studied  the  whole  scene 
from  a  disinterested,  practical  point  of  view,  and  no 


262  THE     FLAME 

matter  how  lenient  she  might  be  towards  Jean  Marie, 
the  appearances  were  all  against  him.  The  terror, 
jealousy,  hatred,  that  had  been  depicted  on  his  white 
face  had  been  unmistakable,  and  Gwendolyn  had 
vaguely  understood  the  significant  meaning  in  Ca- 
mille's  eyes  as  she  watched  the  Prince  while  singing 
the  aria  from  "  Samson  and  Delilah."  Sarcastic  tri 
umph  and  defiance  were  in  the  singer's  voice,  and 
Gwendolyn  had  suspected  from  her  manner  and  from 
the  words  of  the  aria  that  the  woman  had  planned  to 
ruin  Jean  Marie  that  night.  She  must  have  some 
thing  more  serious  to  tell  than  the  simple  story  that 
the  Prince  had  related  to  Gwendolyn.  Bitter  resent 
ment  against  Jean  Marie  rose  in  her  heart  and  she 
acknowledged  to  herself  that  she  never  had  had  abso 
lute  faith  in  the  attractive  nobleman.  She  realized 
that  she  had  been  fascinated  by  his  poetical  expres 
sions,  his  romancing  and  —  she  blushed  to  own  it  — 
by  his  exalted  title.  The  life  that  she  had  pictured 
with  him  in  France  had  been  idealistic  with  its  allur 
ing  castles  still  permeated  with  medieval  romance  and 
history,  and  Jean  Marie  with  his  aristocratic  bearing 
was  like  a  lover  in  fiction.  She  was  ashamed  and 
angry  that  she  had  been  such  a  foolish  child,  chasing 
a  phantom.  How  Jean  Marie  must  have  laughed  at 
her  simplicity !  Womanly  indignation  rose  in  her 
heart  as  it  never  had  before.  She  was  not  a  child, 
and  she  would  let  the  Prince  know  that  she  under 
stood  his  falseness.  She  had  intended  not  to  receive 
him  when  he  would  call,  but  now  her  righteous  anger 
made  her  anxious  to  prove  to  him  that  she  was  no 
longer  weak  and  beguiled  by  his  suave  deception. 


T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E  263 

She  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  how  he  would  have 
trapped  her  had  not  the  singer  been  miraculously  en 
gaged  by  Richard.  Why  had  she  not  heeded  her 
brother  when  he  warned  her  against  Jean  Marie? 
Why  had  she  not  understood  from  Cavarodossi's 
manner  after  her  meeting  with  the  Prince  and  the 
singer  at  Pastori's  Villa,  that  something  was  wrong? 
Cavarodossi  must  believe  her  the  simple,  ignorant 
child  that  Jean  Marie  knew  her  to  be !  Her  cheeks 
burned  with  shame.  Cavarodossi's  opinion  was  of 
consequence  to  her,  and  she  yearned  for  his  sym 
pathy  and  sincerity.  She  never  had  doubted  him 
nor  had  Richard,  and  as  her  brother  had  often  told 
her,  Mario  was  every  inch  a  man.  But  Jean  Marie ! 
.  .  .  She  covered  her  face  with  her  trembling 
hands.  She  had  been  courting  unhappiness,  playing 
with  inevitable  despair!  Had  Cavarodossi  appeared 
at  that  moment,  she  would  have  told  him  in  her  hon 
est,  simple  way  that  she  never  had  appreciated  him 
till  now  that  she  knew  Jean  Marie  to  be  unworthy. 
Yet  she  felt  a  bitter  disappointment  that  the  Prince 
was  unworthy.  It  was  hard  to  believe  that  the  life 
she  had  pictured  had  been  nothing  but  a  fantastic 
dream.  She  dared  not  think  of  what  her  future 
would  have  been. 

In  the  afternoon,  while  she  was  attending  to  her 
plants,  she  heard  someone  approaching,  and  glancing 
back,  saw  Jean  Marie  about  to  step  from  the  music- 
room  into  the  conservatory.  He  abruptly  paused 
as  her  eyes  met  his,  and  Gwendolyn,  with  a  low  ex 
clamation,  drew  back.  His  face  was  white  and  hag 
gard  and  his  eyes  were  bloodshot,  as  they  had  been 


264  THE    FLAME 

when  he  went  to  Camille,  but  in  his  face  was  another 
look,  one  far  more  terrible,  that  of  a  desperate,  mad 
dened  man  who  had  been  caught  in  his  first  crime. 
He  turned  away  from  Gwendolyn's  frightened  gaze 
and  went  back  into  the  music-room.  She  hesitated, 
then  followed  him.  He  was  standing  before  the  fire 
place,  looking  down  unseeingly  at  the  drowsing 
flames,  and  some  time  passed  before  he  turned  to  her, 
where  she  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  watching 
him  with  concern. 

"  Gwendolyn,"  he  said  slowly,  and  his  voice  was  no 
longer  suave  and  debonair,  "  I  know  you  doubt  me, 
I  know  you  feel  I  have  lied  in  regard  to  that  woman, 
Camille  Dubray." 

Gwendolyn's  anger  was  kindled  at  the  mention  of 
the  singer,  and  drawing  herself  up,  she  coldly  eyed 
the  Prince. 

"  Yes,  I  do  believe  that  your  self-reproving  con 
fession  was  insincere." 

The  tinge  of  sarcasm  in  her  tone  deeply  cut  Jean 
Marie,  for  it  reminded  him  of  Camille's  contemptu 
ous  scorn,  and  the  memory  of  her  unbalanced  him. 
When  he  spoke  again,  his  voice  trembled  with  despair 
and  pleading. 

"  I  don't  know  how  I  can  repair  my  wrong,"  he 
said.  "  My  only  hope  is  that  I  have  stifled  your 
faith  in  me,  not  killed  it." 

She  forced  a  sad  little  smile  and  shook  her  head. 

"  Let  us  not  discuss  that  woman  and  your  past," 
she  quietly  said.  "  I  fear  there  is  no  good  in  either, 
and  I  prefer  not  to  listen." 

Jean  Marie  took  a  quick  step  forward. 


THE     FLAME  265 

"  You  must  listen !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  You  must ! 
I  can't  give  you  up  in  this  way.  I  know  there  is 
nothing  in  my  past  that  deserves  such  a  sweet,  noble 
woman  as  yourself,  but  I  promise  you,  I  swear  to  you, 
that  my  future  shall  be  pure  and  honorable,  that  I 
will  devote  my  life  to  the  noble  purposes  you  desire. 
It  is  for  you  to  lead;  I  will  follow." 

The  anguish,  the  almost  tearful  pleading  in  his 
voice  stirred  her  pity,  but  she  said,  firmly: 

"  It  is  of  no  use  for  you  to  speak.  We  are  not 
suited  to  each  other,  and  it  is  best  for  us  to  part. 
The  beliefs,  the  education  of  a  foreign  nobleman  are 
too  unlike  mine  for  us  ever  to  live  in  harmony.  I 
know  my  brother  never  would  agree  to  our  marriage, 
and  I  would  not  marry  without  his  consent." 

"  I  am  willing  to  wait,"  he  begged.  "  I  will  be 
come  an  American  citizen.  I  will  live  as  you  live.  I 
put  myself  in  your  hands,  Gwendolyn.  Mold  me  as 
you  wish !  "  Jean  Marie  meant  what  lie  said,  not  be 
cause  he  repented  the  vileness  of  his  past,  but 
because  he  believed  that  Camille  had  permanently 
deserted  him,  and  with  her  had  gone  his  means  of  sup 
port.  He  had  remained  in  her  apartments  until  day 
break,  but  she  had  not  left  her  room.  Her  last  words 
were  incessantly  ringing  in  his  ears,  "  I  have  saved 
your  life,  Jean.  Now  you  had  better  go !  "  Go ! 
She  had  turned  him  from  her,  leaving  him  penniless ! 
But  if  he  could  win  Gwendolyn,  was  this  not  better 
than  suffering  the  humiliation  to  which  Camille  sub 
jected  him,  by  making  him  ask  for  every  dollar  he 
required?  He  thought  he  would  be  willing  to  be 
come  an  American  citizen,  he  believed  he  could  sub- 


266  THE     FLAME 

mit  to  anything,  so  long  as  Gwendolyn  would  marry 
him  and  give  him  the  handling  of  her  great  fortune. 
He  now  shrank  from  the  thought  of  returning  to 
Paris,  even  as  a  wealthy  man,  because  he  never  again 
could  live  comfortably  in  the  same  city  with  Camille, 
for,  wealthy  or  poor,  he  would  be  within  her  grasp, 
especially  since  he  had  made  the  mad  attempt  to  take 
her  life. 

After  a  pause,  Gwendolyn  slowly  shook  her  head. 
"  If  you  were  a  child,"  she  said,  "  perhaps  I  could 
mold  you  according  to  my  ideas,  but  I  fear  your  life 
has  been  too  careless  for  me  to  change  you  now." 

"  No  !  Try  !  "  he  begged.  "  I  cannot  avoid  being 
uplifted  by  your  nobleness,  for  you  are  the  purest  of 
women.  Give  me  an  opportunity  to  prove  my  sin 
cerity." 

"  No,"  she  said,  quietly.     "  I  can't." 

"  Gwendolyn !  "  he  cried,  springing  forward. 
"  Don't  desert  me !  Don't !  "  He  held  out  his  arms 
to  her,  but  she  turned  away.  Maddened  by  the  ab 
ject  poverty  before  him,  unbalanced  by  his  desperate 
attack  on  Camille's  life,  and  overwrought  by  the 
strain  his  nerves  had  suffered,  he  broke  down,  and 
staggering  forward,  fell  face  downward  on  the  divan, 
and  burst  into  tears. 

Gwendolyn  caught  her  breath,  and,  shrinking  back, 
stood  trembling  as  she  watched  him.  She  never  be 
fore  had  seen  a  man  sob,  and  it  was  a  terrible  sight 
to  her,  the  breaking  of  a  strong,  masculine  heart.  A 
flood  of  pity  swept  over  her.  He  was  like  a  forsaken 
child,  and  the  mother  instinct,  the  mother  love  awak 
ened  and  demanded  her  protection  of  this  suffering, 


THE     FLAME  267 

helpless  man.  No  matter  how  bad  he  may  have  been 
in  the  past,  he  repented  now  and  her  conscience  chided 
her  that  she  had  refused  a  helping  hand.  It  would 
be  a  nobler  act  to  redeem  a  sinner  than  to  aid  one 
who  never  had  gone  astray.  Jesus  did  not  turn  from 
the  Magdalen,  why  should  she  turn  from  Jean  Marie? 
Remorseful  tears  rose  to  her  eyes.  She  wished  Rich 
ard  could  see  Jean.  He  also  would  forgive  and  aid 
him.  She  must  listen  to  the  story  Jean  had  to  tell, 
no  matter  how  bad  it  might  be,  for  how  could  she 
help  him  if  she  did  not  know  the  wrongs  he  had  done? 
She  must  let  him  unburden  his  heart,  so  that  she  could 
point  out  the  way  of  correction  and  salvation.  Going 
to  him,  she  gently  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and 
softly  said: 

"  Don't  despair,  Jean.  I  am  willing  to  help  you. 
Be  brave." 

With  a  low,  hopeful  exclamation,  he  caught  her 
hand  and  kissed  it ;  then,  springing  up,  walked  to  the 
farther  end  of  the  room  and  wiped  his  face  and  eyes 
with  his  handkerchief. 

"  Forgive  my  weakness,"  he  said  brokenly,  and 
stood  with  his  back  to  her  until  she  went,  and  resting 
her  hand  on  his  arm,  said  encouragingly : 

"  I  want  to  hear  about  your  life  and  that 
that   woman.     It   was   unkind    of   me   to   be    relent 
less." 

He  clutched  her  fingers  and  pressed  them  eagerly 
to  his  lips.  He  had  won  her  again !  It  was  worth 
the  agony  and  despair  that  he  had  suffered.  She 
saw  the  joy  in  his  eyes  and  understood  it  to  be  a  silent 
declaration  of  love. 


268  THE     FLAME 

"  Come  and  sit  down,"  she  said,  "  and  open  your 
heart  to  me."  Taking  his  hand,  she  gently  drew 
him  to  a  chair  and  sat  on  a  cushion  at  his  feet,  as 
she  often  did  with  Richard. 

He  let  some  time  slip  by  before  he  spoke,  for  he 
was  not  sure  of  himself  and  could  not  altogether  con 
trol  his  thoughts.  His  sudden  collapse  had  dazed 
him,  and  the  story  he  had  planned  to  tell  concerning 
Camille  was  not  clear  in  his  mind. 

Gwendolyn,  her  head  bowed,  waited  in  silence  for 
him  to  speak. 

"  I  did  a  wretched  thing  to  that  woman,"  he  said, 
at  last,  slowly,  falteringly,  because  he  knew  he  must 
begin,  "  but  it  was,  I  think,  hardest  of  all  for  Feleki." 

Gwendolyn  quickly  glanced  up,  but  Jean  Marie 
closed  his  eyes. 

"  This  woman,  Camille  Dubray,"  he  carefully  went 
on,  "  was  a  cafe  singer,  a  woman  but  little  known. 
She  was  beautiful,  dashing,  adventurous,  as  you  can 
see,  and  she  longed  to  become  famous  in  the  gay  life 
of  Paris.  Feleki  had  found  her,  and  had  fallen  des 
perately  in  love  with  her.  She  became  his  sweetheart. 
.  .  .  She  was  an  immoral  woman.  He  was  begin 
ning  his  career  as  a  concert  violinist,  and  could  not 
command  the  money  he  does  at  present,  but  he  could 
give  her  more  than  the  men  with  whom  she  had  previ 
ously  associated.  For  a  while  she  was  contented, 
but  at  last  ambition  mastered  her  and  she  craved 
more  than  he  could  give,  yet  she  loved  him  in  her 
inmost  heart.  It  was  her  love  of  flattery  and  jewels 
that  conquered  her,  and,  naturally  enough,  I  sup 
pose,  since  she  had  been  born  and  reared  in  the  slums 


THE     FLAME  269 

of  Paris.  Feleki,  with  his  idealistic  soul,  loved  her 
blindly,  perhaps, — "  and  Jean  Marie  faltered, — "  she 
may  have  reminded  him  of  the  Diane  Godin  whose 
story  he  told  here  one  night.  .  .  .  There  is 
something  wild  and  weird  in  Feleki's  nature,  and  I  do 
not  condemn  his  undying  passion  for  Camille.  I 
only  can  pity  him.  Through  his  influence,  she  ob 
tained  a  position  in  a  popular  cafe,  and  it  was  here 
that  I  first  met  her  and  'was  attracted  by  her  brilliant 
charms.  In  company  with  my  young  friends,  I  used 
to  go  every  night  to  hear  her  sing,  and  was  flattered 
because  she  never  failed  to  sing  a  love  song  with  her 
languishing  eyes  looking  into  mine.  She  seemed  to 
favor  me  above  the  others,  and  —  well,  I  was  reck 
less,  a  hot-headed  youth.  I  made  her  acquaintance, 
and  when  she  learned  that  I  was  a  nobleman,  she 
fairly  threw  herself  into  my  arms,  knowing  that  with 
my  influence  I  could  make  her  the  petted  idol  of  Paris. 
I  do  not  blame  her  for  what  she  did,  because  she 
never  had  been  taught  to  know  what  purity  means. 
Vain,  proud  youth  that  I  was,  I  took  her  from  Feleki, 
although  I  knew  that  the  loss  of  her  would  crush  his 
heart.  It  was  a  dastardly  thing  to  do.  ...  I 
secured  her  positions  in  the  leading  cafes  and  she  be 
came  the  undisputed  queen  she  had  longed  to  be.  At 
last  I  grew  tired  of  her,  because  there  was  so  much  in 
her  nature  that  was  vulgar,  and  also  I  learned  that 
she  was  unfaithful  to  me.  When  I  deserted  her,  she 
longed  again  for  Feleki,  but,  although  she  made  him 
every  promise  of  eternal  fidelity,  he  would  not  take 
her  back,  and  he  hated  me  for  what  I  had  done,  and 
I  believe  he  hates  me  still.  Her  love  for  him  grew 


270  THE    FLAME 

with  his  unrelenting  decision  not  to  accept  her  again. 
She  turned  against  me  and  denounced  me  everywhere, 
but  when  I  met  her  here,  she  was  as  friendly  as 
though  nothing  ever  had  happened.  Last  night,  at 
the  musicale,  I  had  a  presentiment  that  she  intended 
to  denounce  me  before  your  friends  to  repay  me  for 
having  taken  her  from  Janos  and,  at  the  same  time, 
to  give  him  absolute  proof  that  she  no  longer  cares 
for  me." 

"  What  brought  her  to  San  Francisco?  "  Gwendo 
lyn  interrupted  in  an  unsteady  tone.  She  felt  that 
she  must  help  Jean  Marie,  but  his  confession  was  al 
most  more  than  she  could  bear.  This  woman  had  be 
longed  to  him !  She  shuddered. 

A  sudden  inspiration  came  to  Jean  Marie.  "  Ca- 
mille  heard  that  the  violinist  was  here,  and  she  de 
termined  to  make  another  effort  to  win  him,"  he  said, 
"  but  Feleki  is  firm.  You  can  well  imagine  my  as 
tonishment  when  I  found  her  here  in  company  with 
Monsieur  Dubois,  who  knows  nothing  concerning  her. 
As  I  told  you  before,  I  was  ashamed  to  let  Dubois 
know  of  my  former  acquaintance  with  the  woman, 
and  also  I  did  not  want  him  to  question  me  concern 
ing  her,  because  I  imagined  and  hoped  that  she  was 
leading  a  better  life.  It  was  a  strange  fate  that 
brought  Feleki,  the  woman  and  myself  together 
again." 

Jean  Marie  sat  for  a  time  looking  thoughtfully  be 
fore  him.  It  had  indeed  been  a  strange  fate,  but  the 
past  would  be  dead  and  buried  now  that  Camille  had 
deserted  him  and  he  had  won  Gwendolyn  once  more. 
He  looked  down  at  her  soft  blonde  curls  and  smiled. 


THE    FLAME  271 

How  different  she  was  from  the  woman  he  would 
choose  for  his  wife,  yet  how  necessary  she  was  to 
him! 

"What  was  the  last  song  she  sang?  "  Gwendolyn 
presently  asked.  "  It  was  wonderful,  a  divine  har 
mony." 

"  Feleki  composed  it  for  her  when  they  were  sweet 
hearts."  Jean  Marie  quickly  changed  the  subject. 
"  My  taking  that  woman  from  Feleki  is  not  the  only 
wrong  I  have  done,"  he  added,  despairingly.  "  I 
have  gambled  and  fought  duels  and  done  every  foolish 
thing  imaginable,  thinking  that  I  was  having  pleasure 
and  seeing  the  best  in  life,  but  now  I  want  you  to 
guide  me,  Gwendolyn.  I  am  willing  to  do  anything 
you  may  ask,  for  my  repentance  is  sincere.  I  feel 
happier  now  that  I  have  unburdened  my  heart  and 
kept  nothing  from  you.  Can  you  forgive  me?  Will 
you  help  me?  " 

Her  sympathy  and  good  resolutions  did  not  for 
sake  her.  She  believed  that  Jean  Marie  was  sincere, 
but  she  knew  that  it  would  take  time  before  she  could 
reconcile  herself  to  giving  her  heart  and  hand  to  a 
man  who  had  led  his  intemperate  life  and  who  had 
been  entangled  with  a  woman  like  Camille  Dubray. 
Perhaps  he  was  no  worse  than  many  men,  but  she 
wanted  one  who  was  purer,  one  who  was  like  —  Cav- 
arodossi. 

Jean  Marie  saw  the  struggle  in  her  eyes  and  under 
stood.  He  took  her  hand  and  pressed  it  reverently 
to  his  lips.  "  You  won't  forsake  me,  will  you  ?  "  he 
asked  in  a  gentle,  pleading  tone. 

She  slowly  shook  her  head.     Looking  into  his  eyes, 


272  THE     FLAME 

she  saw  the  hope  that  was  lighting  them  and  she 
innocently  believed  that  the  unburdening  of  his  heart 
was  the  first  step  towards  the  rebuilding  of  a  nobler 
life. 

Jean  Marie  did  not  urge  a  tender  answer,  nor  did 
he  manifest  a  fervent  love;  he  only  raised  her  hand 
and  again  pressed  it  to  his  lips.  He  felt  a  sudden 
reaction  after  his  desperate  struggle  and  outburst, 
and  he  knew  that  he  must  leave  and  master  himself 
alone.  He  was  confident  that  he  had  conquered 
Gwendolyn  through  her  sympathies,  and  he  could 
go  home  and  rest.  He  did  not  take  her  in  his  arms 
when  he  left,  but  tenderly  kissed  her  hair.  She  held 
out  her  hand  and  for  a  moment  they  stood  silently 
grasping  each  other's  fingers ;  then  Jean  Marie  turned 
away,  as  if  he  were  again  overcome  by  his  emotions. 

Gwendolyn  went  out  into  the  hall  and  waited  until 
the  door  closed  behind  him;  then,  slowly,  thought 
fully,  she  returned  to  the  music-room.  Her  heart 
was  full  of  pity  for  him  and  she  censured  his  parents 
for  not  having  taught  him  how  to  live  a  better,  nobler 
life.  She  felt  a  responsibility  for  his  future.  She 
would  tell  Richard  of  his  heartrending  anguish,  and 
she  believed  that  her  brother  would  sympathize  with 
him. 

When  Richard  came  home  to  dinner,  Gwendolyn 
was  still  in  the  music-room,  and  hearing  the  door 
close,  was  about  to  call,  "  Dick !  "  when  an  imperious 
voice  rose  from  her  heart  and  cried,  "  Silence !  "  She 
caught  a  quick,  nervous  breath,  and  shrinking  back 
in  her  chair,  tremblingly  obeyed  the  warning. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  attempt  that  Jean  Marie  had  made  to  take 
Camille's  life  had  deeply  stirred  her,  not  be 
cause  she  feared  him,  but  because  she  now  under 
stood  the  extent  of  his  treachery  and  degradation. 
She  always  had  known  that  he  was  unprincipled  and 
cared  only  for  his  own  comfort  and  pleasure,  but  it 
startled  her  to  realize  that  he  would  take  her  life  to 
fulfill  his  desires.  She  had  expected  neither  noble 
ness  por  generosity  from  him,  but  he  had  fallen  far 
beneath  even  that  estimation,  for  she  had  believed  that 
the  culture  and  refinement  of  his  birth  would  prevent 
him  from  sinking  to  the  depths  of  a  common  crim 
inal.  Had  he  been  born  of  poor,  ignorant  parents, 
as  she  had  been,  and  had  he  associated  with  the 
thoughtless,  uncultured  people  with  whom  she  had 
been  thrown,  she  could  better  have  understood  his  ab 
solute  corruption.  Although  her  heart  burned  with 
hatred,  she  would  not  abandon  him,  so  strong  was 
her  determination  to  make  him  pay  the  penalty  of 
his  wrongs,  and  she  did  not  think  that  he  believed 
himself  to  be  abandoned. 

She  passed  the  day  after  the  musicale  in  languid 
despair.  The  memory  of  Janos's  love  song  clung  to 
her  more  persistently  than  did  Jean  Marie's  attack 
on  her  life.  The  hopelessness  of  her  love  for  Janos 

and  the  understanding  that  she  herself  had  put  the 

273 


274  THE     FLAME 

barrier  between  them,  preyed  unceasingly  on  her 
mind.  She  had  only  one  fragile  comfort, —  that  he 
still  adored  Diane  Godin.  As  Camille  Dubray  she 
had  become  another  woman,  and  he  lived  with  his  dead 
ideal.  Cavarodossi  had  sympathetically  told  her  that 
whenever  Janos  played,  it  was  to  his  Diane.  But  in 
her  inmost  heart,  she  knew  that  even  in  her  pure 
days  she  could  not  have  been  like  the  ideal  he  had 
cherished,  for  had  she  been  so  chaste  and  noble,  she 
never  could  have  fallen  under  the  influence  of  a  man 
like  Jean  Marie.  Janos  had  often  laughed  at  her 
wild,  capricious  ways  and  had  tried  to  tame  her,  as 
he  said,  but  he  saw  in  her  a  sweet,  idealistic  soul, 
which  Camille  now  believed  was  only  his  poetic  dream. 

Without  lenity  she  studied  her  life  as  it  had  been 
and  was  merciless  in  her  self-condemnation,  yet  she 
realized  that  there  was  some  virtue  in  her  character, 
even  as  Camille  Dubray.  If  only  Janos  could  see  this 
and  forgive  the  pollution  of  the  flesh  and  respect  her ! 
If  only  he  could  know  the  good  that  was  still  existent 
and  feel  that  she  was  soiled  with  corruption,  but  not 
corrupt!  Yet  how  could  she  expect  him  to  believe 
this,  when  she  had  run  away  with  a  disreputable  man 
and  left  not  only  him,  her  betrothed,  but  her  mother, 
who  was  depending  upon  her  for  support? 

Camille  could  not  understand  how  she  ever  could 
have  yielded  to  Jean  Marie's  base  persuasion  and  been 
dazzled  by  his  promises  of  wealth.  It  was  true  that 
he  had  not  told  her  what  her  life  would  be  as  the 
favorite  of  the  dissolute  cafe  habitues.  She  had  not 
understood  the  price  he  would  make  her  pay  for  self- 
indulgence.  He  had  deceived  and  beguiled  her,  but 


T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E  275 

she  should  not  have  succumbed  to  his  fatal  tempta 
tion.  She  had  paid  and  was  paying  with  despera 
tion  and  misery  for  every  jewel  she  had  possessed 
and  for  all  the  luxury  with  which  she  was  surrounded. 
She  wondered  why  it  was  that  such  a  serpent  as  Jean 
Marie  had  come  into  her  life  and  robbed  her  of  what 
might  have  been  a  happy,  brilliant  future,  but  — 
why  had  she  not  eluded  the  serpent's  fangs  ? 

Camille  dwelt  upon  her  life  and  its  mad  follies  un 
til  she  became  almost  hysterical  in  her  despair,  but  in 
the  night  she  fell  asleep,  exhausted,  and  awoke  in 
the  morning  filled  with  the  determination  to  expose 
Jean  Marie  and  force  him  back  to  Paris  with  her. 
She  would  do  as  Janos  and  Cavarodossi  had  asked 
her,  go  privately  to  Gwendolyn  and  tell  her  story. 
It  was  her  duty  as  well  as  a  personal  gratification. 

After  luncheon,  she  had  Celeste  dress  her  in  a  black 
princess  gown.  Her  broad-brimmed  hat  was  covered 
with  a  long  black  veil,  and  the  ends  were  tied  in  a 
large,  soft  bow  under  her  chin.  It  was  a  simple, 
modest  attire,  but  as  she  glanced  in  the  mirror  before 
leaving  her  room,  she  realized  that  her  brilliant  beauty 
was  not  dimmed. 

Reaching  the  Rolfe  home,  she  stepped  lightly  from 
the  motor-car  and  ascended  the  broad  marble  steps. 
It  was  a  pleasant,  balmy  day,  and  although  her  mind 
was  occupied  with  the  ordeal  before  her,  her  beauty- 
loving  eyes  were  attracted  by  the  deep  slope  of  rich 
green  lawn  that  stretched  far  back  on  either  side  of 
the  stone  house.  There  was  something  refreshing 
and  sweet  in  the  appearance  of  the  place,  and  she 
hesitated  before  reaching  the  top  step,  knowing  that 


276  THE     FLAME 

when  she  would  leave,  a  gloom  would  have  fallen  over 
the  home. 

She  rang  the  bell,  and  presently  the  butler  opened 
the  door  and  astonishment  flashed  into  his  face  when 
he  saw  her. 

"  Is  Miss  Rolfe  at  home?  "  she  asked,  not  present 
ing  a  card.  "  Tell  her,  please,  that  a  lady  wishes  to 
see  her.  You  need  not  mention  whom." 

A  silent  moment  passed  before  the  servant  asked 
her  to  enter  and  wait  until  he  would  speak  to  Miss 
Rolfe,  who,  he  believed,  was  in  the  garden. 

Camille  nodded  and  took  a  seat  near  the  door. 
Left  alone,  her  eyes  strayed  over  the  handsome  hall, 
with  its  massive  oak  furniture,  rich  golden-brown 
hangings,  and  costly  statuary.  She  drew  a  deep 
breath  of  the  pure  air,  untainted  by  artificiality.  It 
was  quiet  and  restful  to  her  tired  nerves.  On  the 
square  landing  of  the  broad  stairway  was  a  large  art- 
glass  window  of  Murillo's  La  Vergine  col  Figlio,  and 
she  was  studying  the  exquisite  beauty  of  it,  when  a 
vision  in  white  came  slowly  down  the  stairs.  Camille 
rose  and  advanced  some  steps  as  Gwendolyn  reached 
the  landing.  Pausing  abruptly,  the  girl  clutched  the 
balustrade  and  stood  looking  down  with  startled  sur 
prise.  The  sun  shining  through  the  window  daintily 
colored  her  gown  with  a  rainbow  of  delicate  shades, 
and  Camille  drew  back  before  the  fair  girl,  who 
looked  like  an  angel  of  purity.  Could  she  unfold  to 
this  sweet  creature  the  immorality  of  her  life?  She 
drew  her  black  veil  half  across  her  face  and  shrank 
back  into  the  soft  shadow. 


THE     FLAME  277 

"  What  do  you  wish?  "  Gwendolyn  demanded 
with  quiet  dignity,  but  a  tremulous  note  was  in  her 
voice. 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you."  Camille  stepped 
forward  again. 

Gwendolyn  shook  her  head.  "  I  am  sorry  for 
you,"  she  said,  "  but  I  am  sure  you  can  tell  me  noth 
ing  that  I  wish  to  hear." 

"  Perhaps  not,  Mademoiselle,  but  it  is  something 
you  must  hear." 

Gwendolyn  elevated  her  brows.  "  Must? "  she 
echoed,  and  smiled  wearily. 

"  Don't  force  me,  Mademoiselle.  It  means  your 
salvation  if  you  listen,  but  if  you  won't,  I  must  seek 
your  brother." 

Gwendolyn's  fingers  tightened  over  the  balustrade 
and  her  face  went  white. 

The  butler  returned  to  the  hall  and  glanced  with 
surprise  from  Camille  to  Gwendolyn,  who  said  with 
an  effort: 

"  Show  the  lady  into  the  music-room,  James." 

When  the  servant  returned,  Gwendolyn  was  wait 
ing  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  When  His  Highness  of  Bourbon  calls,"  she  said, 
quietly,  "  tell  him  that  I  am  not  at  liberty,  but  will 
see  him  to-morrow  afternoon  at  four."  She  passed 
on  to  the  music-room  and  paused  on  the  threshold 
before  entering  and  closing  the  door.  Jealousy  again 
stirred  in  her  heart,  and  she  hesitated  to  meet  this 
singer  whom  Jean  Marie  had  called  an  immoral 
woman.  Going  towards  the  windows,  Gwendolyn  se- 


278  THE     FLAME 

lected  a  chair  that  brought  her  back  to  the  light,  and 
motioning  with  dignity  for  Camille  to  sit  opposite 
her,  waited  with  dread  for  the  singer  to  speak. 

"  It  is  a  most  unpleasant  story  that  I  must  tell, 
Mademoiselle,  and  I  know  that  it  will  be  distressing 
for  you  to  listen,  but  I  could  not  let  you  walk  blindly 
to  destruction,  even  though  it  were  of  no  personal 
satisfaction  to  me  to  disclose  this  base  deception." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  Gwendolyn  murmured, 
avoiding  Camille's  gaze  and  involuntarily  shrinking 
back. 

"  I  wish  to  speak  of  the  frince  de  Bourbon,  Made 
moiselle." 

The  girl  did  not  answer,  but  trembled  before  the 
hatred  and  anger  flickering  in  Camille's  eyes  at  the 
mention  of  his  name.  The  pity  and  faith  that  Jean 
Marie  had  awakened  in  Gwendolyn  the  day  before 
had  been  shaken  by  the  imperious  voice  that  had  kept 
her  from  confiding  in  her  brother.  Jean  Marie  had 
told  two  stories,  but  was  either  truthful?  His  col 
lapse  had  been  sincere,  but  what  had  really  caused  it? 

"  I  must  begin,  Mademoiselle,  by  telling  you  some 
thing  of  my  life,  so  that  you  can  understand  that  I 
was  once  what  you  are  now,  a  good,  pure  girl."  Ca 
mille's  voice  quivered,  and  she  sat  erect,  clutching 
the  arms  of  her  chair.  "  I  was  born  in  poverty,  but, 
unfortunately,  I  longed  for  wealth.  At  an  age  when 
a  child  should  be  in  school,  I  was  forced  to  work  and 
support  myself,  my  mother  and  sister.  Perhaps  I 
was  wild  and  adventurous, —  yes,  I  know  I  was,  and, 
unluckily,  men  easily  fell  slaves  to  my  vivacious  way, 
but  one  day,  when  I  was  eighteen,  an  artist  came  into 


THE    FLAME  279 

my  life  and  I  struggled  to  suppress  the  madness  in 
my  nature,  because  I  loved  him  and  he  loved  me." 

Camille's  voice  trembled  and  she  paused. 

Gwendolyn,  with  a  throbbing  heart,  sat  still. 
There  was  something  stirring  and  magnetic  in  Ca- 
mille's  rich  tones,  that  made  Gwendolyn,  almost  un 
willingly,  believe  that  the  woman  was  sincere. 

"  The  man  was  a  true  artist,  this  violinist,  with  an 
idealistic  nature,  and  I  studied  and  tried  to  refine  my 
self  that  I  might  become  more  like  him,"  Camille  went 
on,  brokenly.  "  He  saw  my  faults,  yet  loved  me  for 
them,  because  he  did  not  believe  that  they  would  lead 
me  to  ruin.  Some  months  after  we  had  been  engaged, 
a  man  carne  to  lodge  in  the  house  where  I  was  living. 
He  was  a  gentleman  —  in  outward  appearance  —  and 
seemed  to  be  of  aristocratic  birth,  but  he  dressed 
poorly  like  the  students  and  had  but  little  money. 
He  was  attracted  by  my  youthful  charms  and  I  was 
fascinated  by  his  polished,  exquisite  manner.  When 
he  tried  to  win  me,  he  told  me  of  the  wealthy  world 
from  which  he  had  come  and  of  the  high  position  that 
he  had  occupied.  He  praised  my  voice  and  said  that 
with  his  influence  he  could  make  me  the  most  popular 
cafe  singer  in  France.  He  told  me  of  the  money  I 
could  earn,  of  the  power  I  should  wield  over  the  pub 
lic  and  I  should  be  courted  by  titled  and  wealthy  men. 
He  had  discovered  my  weakness;  he  knew  that  I 
longed  for  luxury.  I  listened  to  him,  fascinated  by 
his  poetical  love  for  me,  and  it  flattered  my  vanity 
that  I,  a  poor,  uncultured  girl,  could  win  the  heart  of 
this  exalted  man.  He  cast  an  enchanting  spell  over 
me,  and  I  was  weak  enough  to  yield.  After  a  year, 


280  T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E 

he  decided  to  go  back  to  his  old  life  and  begged  me 
to  go  with  him  and  share  its  wealth  and  its  glory! 
.  .  .  Glory ! "  Camille  closed  her  eyes  and  a 
shudder  ran  through  her. 

Gwendolyn  had  not  moved,  but  fear  was  stealing 
into  her  face  and  she  sat  rigid,  imperceptibly  breath 
ing  through  her  parted  lips. 

Presently  Camille  went  on: 

"  I  told  my  fiance  that  I  could  not  marry  him,  for 
I  did  not  love  him  as  I  at  first  had  believed  and  that 
I  was  going  away  with  this  man.  He  was  crushed 
instead  of  being  enraged,  and  let  me  go,  instead  of 
killing  me."  A  dramatic  quiver  shot  into  Camille's 
voice  and  Gwendolyn  moved  uneasily.  "  I  went  away 
with  this  fascinating,  disreputable  wretch  and  left  my 
mother,  my  sister  and  the  only  man  I  ever  have  truly 
loved.  I  was  weak,  but  he  had  hypnotized  me." 

Gwendolyn,  leaning  forward,  her  startled  eyes  fas 
tened  on  the  singer's  face,  asked  unsteadily : 

66  Are  you  Diane  Godin  ?  " 

Camille  sprang  up.  "  How  did  you  know  ?  "  she 
gasped. 

"  Monsieur  Feleki  told  your  sad  story  here  one 
night,  and  now  I  understand  the  Prince  of  Bourbon's 
agitation."  Overcome  with  misery  and  trembling, 
with  excitement  and  fear,  Gwendolyn  rose,  and  going 
to  the  window,  rested  her  arm  against  the  casing  and 
hid  her  face  in  the  soft  sleeve  falling  over  her  elbow. 
She  remembered  agreeing  with  Feleki  that  the  man 
who  had  come  into  Diane's  life  had  been  like  a  viper 
concealed  in  the  grass.  She  struggled  to  suppress 
the  agonizing  tears  that  were  forcing  themselves  to 


THE     FLAME  281 

her  eyes.  The  shock  of  discovering  Jean  Marie's 
contemptible  character,  his  falseness,  his  lies,  the  hor 
ror  of  learning  how  close  she  had  slipped  to  the  edge 
of  a  precipice,  stunned  her,  and  she  silently  clutched 
the  plush  draperies  at  the  window  to  keep  herself  from 
falling. 

Camille  knew  that  she  had  defeated  Jean  Marie, 
but  she  was  not  satisfied ;  she  wanted  the  girl  to  know 
all ;  she  was  determined  to  tear  every  shred  of  decency 
from  the  man  who  had  ruined  her  life. 

"  Janos  could  tell  no  more  than  what  I  have  just 
related,  but  that,  Mademoiselle,  is  only  the  begin 
ning,  and  reveals  but  little  concerning  the  man  who, 
I  believe,  has  offered  you  his  heart." 

Gwendolyn  shrank  closer  to  the  window,  but  did 
not  speak. 

"  He  stayed  with  me  for  two  years  after  I  left  the 
Latin  Quarter  with  him,"  Camille  continued,  resting 
on  the  back  of  a  chair,  her  eyes  riveted  on  Gwendo 
lyn's  blonde  curls,  "  but  one  day  a  vulgar  dance-hall 
woman  caught  his  fancy,  and,  without  warning,  he 
left  me,  a  girl  of  twenty,  to  become  the  toy  of  dishon 
orable  men.  But  what  had  he  done  to  me  before  he 
left  me  alone  1 "  Camille's  voice  broke  and  she  cov 
ered  her  face  with  her  veil.  "  He  was  in  desperate 
need  of  money  to  keep  on  with  his  fast  life,  and 
.  .  .  he  induced  me  to  sell  myself,  that  money 
might  be  raised  to  meet  his  extravagant  demands ! 
.  .  .  O  God,  why  did  Janos  not  kill  me !  "  A 
sudden  weakness  stole  over  Camille  and  she  sank  on 
her  knees,  still  clinging  to  the  chair.  When  she  went 
on,  her  voice  was  low  and  muffled.  "  After  several 


282  THE     FLAME 

months,  Bourbon  came  back  to  me,  because  I  had  then 
become  the  most  popular  cafe  singer  in  Paris,  and 
money  was  pouring  in,  but  he  left  me  again  for  an 
other  woman.  Four  times  in  the  seven  years  since 
I  went  away  with  him,  he  has  deserted  me,  but  he  al 
ways  returned  and  I  accepted  him,  because  he  be 
longed  to  me  as  no  other  man  did.  A  year  ago,  he 
came  back  in  desperate  poverty.  His  uncle  had  re 
fused  to  pay  any  more  of  his  debts,  and  to  raise 
money,  he  had  sold  cherished  family  relics.  All  that 
he  had  inherited  went  to  the  creditors  who  were  hound 
ing  him.  He  had  become  entangled  in  some  dishon 
orable  business,  and  this,  combined  with  his  enormous 
debts,  forced  him  to  become  an  exile  from  Paris.  He 
wanted  to  come  to  America  until  the  Parisians  should 
forget,  and  I  sold  everything  of  value  that  I  pos 
sessed  to  raise  enough  money  for  him.  He  pretended 
to  repent  his  life  and  promised  to  find  work  over  here 
and  then  send  for  me  and  marry  me,  so  we  could  begin 
a  new,  clean  life.  But  he  lied  to  me.  He  had  no  in 
tention  of  working.  It  was  an  heiress  he  was  seeking, 
who,  with  her  money,  could  reestablish  his  social  po 
sition  in  France." 

Camille  paused,  and  raising  her  head,  fastened  her 
penetrating  eyes  on  the  girl,  but  Gwendolyn  did  not 
move.  She  was  still  clinging  to  the  drapery,  quietly 
sobbing.  What  a  dupe  Jean  Marie  had  made  of 
her !  She  was  overcome  with  shame,  with  bitter  hu 
miliation  that  she  had  not  understood  him  and  known 
that  he  was  seeking  her  fortune  only.  The  last  hope 
of  his  sincerity  had  been  swept  away  with  the  knowl 
edge  that  this  woman  was  Diane  Godin,  and  she 


THE     FLAME  283 

shrank  from  the  remembrance  of  the  caresses  this  dis 
solute  hypocrite  had  given  her.  She  was  terrorized 
at  the  peril  into  which  she  had  almost  plunged  her 
self,  and  when  Camille  spoke  again,  Gwendolyn  visi 
bly  trembled. 

"  What  had  driven  him  to  the  Latin  Quarter,  in 
cognito,  was  dishonest  gambling  with  cards.  He  is  a 
social  outcast,  and  the  castle  of  which  he  speaks  is 
owned  by  his  uncle,  who  has  promised  him  a  home  in 
it,  if  he  will  marry  a  rich  woman  and  lead  a  decent 
life.  He  is  a  past-master  at  deception,  this  exalted 
Prince,  and  to  gain  your  fortune,  he  would  have 
tricked  you,  as  he  did  me.  I  am  thankful  that  I  could 
save  your  life,  Mademoiselle,  from  becoming  the 
wreck  that  he  has  made  mine.  Through  him,  I  lost 
Janos,  the  one  man  who  had  a  great  love  for  me  and 
who  could  have  made  me  happy  and  respected,  in 
stead  of  being  what  I  am  now, —  a  woman  to  insult 
and  despise !  " 

Camille's  tone,  dismal  with  absolute  despair,  roused 
Gwendolyn,  and  a  flood  of  pity  swept  through  her, 
driving  away  every  unkind  feeling  she  had  had  for 
the  beautiful  singer.  She  turned  to  Camille,  and, 
springing  forward,  caught  her  protectingly  in  her 
arms. 

"  No !  You  are  not  a  woman  to  despise !  "  she  ex 
claimed.  "  Ignorance  and  inexperience  made  you 
fall  in  flesh,  but  your  spirit  is  left  untouched.  Some 
day  Janos  will  know  this,  too." 

A  great  throb  of  surprise,  joy  and  hope  broke 
from  Camille's  lips,  and  crushing  Gwendolyn  to  her 
heart,  clung  to  her  as  to  life  itself.  Her  proud  spirit 


284  T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E 

was  broken  by  the  kindly  words.  She  became  the 
girl  and  Gwendolyn  the  strong,  defending  woman,  for 
the  childlike  youth  had  died  and  the  woman  had  ma 
tured  while  Camille  was  telling  her  story.  Indigna 
tion,  resentment,  disgust  for  her  blind  folly,  stirred 
the  very  depths  of  her  soul,  and  contemptuous  hatred 
for  Jean  Marie  rose  in  her  heart,  that  he  would  entice 
her  into  a  marriage,  not  for  herself,  but  for  her  for 
tune.  And  this  poor  woman,  sobbing  in  her  arms, 
had  been  dragged  through  degradation  to  give  him 
money  to  squander  on  dissolute  living!  Her  arms 
tightened  about  Camille  and  she  tenderly  kissed  her 
wet,  pale  cheek.  She  did  not  speak,  but  let  Camille's 
tears  flow  on  until,  at  last,  they  ceased  and  she  said, 
brokenly : 

"  The  kindest  words  I  have  heard  since  leaving 
Janos  are  those  you  said  to  me  just  now." 

Gwendolyn  pressed  her  hand,  and  Camille,  drawing 
away,  wiped  her  eyes. 

"  I  didn't  know  that  such  a  bad,  unprincipled  man 
could  be  so  gentle  and  refined,"  Gwendolyn  said, 
presently,  in  a  thoughtful,  unhappy  tone. 

"  There  are  many  men  just  as  bad  as  he,  Miss 
Rolfe,  but  there  are  none  who  are  worse.  I  came  to 
San  Francisco  to  learn  what  he  was  doing  and  why 
I  had  not  heard  from  him,  and  I  am  glad  I  did  come, 
for  it  is  worth  more  to  me  than  you  can  imagine  to 
have  met  a  true  woman  like  yourself  and  a  noble  man 
like  Signer  Cavarodossi.  I  would  have  traveled 
around  the  world  to  find  both  of  you.  The  only  sym 
pathy  and  kindly  help  I  have  had  till  now  have  come 
from  him,  and  my  heart  is  overflowing  with  joy, 


THE     FLAME  285 

knowing  that  he  loves  you."  Camille  fastened  a 
searching  look  upon  Gwendolyn,  and  the  girl  red 
dened.  "  Suppose  you  had  fallen  into  the  clutches 
of  Bourbon,  instead  of  being  enshrined  in  the  heart 
of  a  man  like  Signor  Cavarodossi !  "  Camille  fervently 
added. 

Gwendolyn  did  not  answer,  but  turned  away. 
What  a  foolish,  vain  girl  she  had  been  to  favor  a 
deceitful,  hypocritical  Prince  over  a  simple,  honest 
man  like  Cavarodossi,  who  commanded  the  respect  of 
everyone!  Humiliation  and  disgust  for  her  weak 
ness,  roused  an  anger  that  made  her  blood  tingle 
through  her  veins,  and  it  seemed  as  though  her  heart 
would  burst  with  indignation.  She  never  wished  to 
hear  the  name  of  Jean  Marie  again. 

"  If  I  could  have  been  saved  from  him,"  Camille 
added,  "  how  different  my  life  would  be !  I  could 
have  stood  at  Janos's  side,  his  social  equal,  making 
him  happy,  instead  of  breaking  his  heart !  "  She 
bowed  her  head  and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands.  "  The 
one  love,  the  one  thought  of  my  life,  is  Janos,  and  he 
is  lost  to  me !  "  she  sobbed. 

Gwendolyn,  turning  back,  gazed  at  her  with  pity. 
If  only  she  could  help  her!  Camille's  being  a  social 
outcast,  a  woman  for  a  pure  girl  to  shun,  was  of  no 
consequence ;  it  only  made  the  sympathy  between  them 
stronger,  and  she  wished  that  Feleki  could  forgive 
his  repentant  Diane  and  take  her  to  his  heart  again. 

A  knock  fell  upon  the  door.  Camille  went  to  the 
windows  and  stood  looking  out. 

Some  moments  passed  before  Gwendolyn  said, 
"Come!" 


286  THE     FLAME 

James  entered  and  held  out  his  dainty  salver. 
Gwendolyn  slowly  took  the  card  and  caught  her 
breath  as  she  read  the  name.  She  glanced  quickly 
to  Camille,  then  back  again  to  James  and  nodded. 
The  servant  quietly  withdrew,  and  presently  the  visi 
tor  entered. 

"  I  could  not  go  away  without  telling  you  good-by, 
Miss  Rolfe.  I  am  leaving  this  afternoon  for  New 
York." 

Camille  swung  round,  crying,  "  Janos !  " 

Feleki  blanched,  and  staggering  back,  clutched  his 
throbbing  heart. 

"  Have  pity  on  her !  "  Gwendolyn  begged.  "  She 
has  told  me  her  story,  and  oh,  it  is  so  sad !  She  has 
saved  me,  and  I  love  her.  Don't  think  of  what  her 
life  has  been,  think  of  what  it  would  be,  with  you  to 
help  her!" 

Feleki  pressed  his  hand  to  his  aching  forehead  and 
closed  his  eyes.  His  pale,  thin  face  showed  what  he 
had  suffered  in  the  two  days  that  had  passed  since 
the  musicale. 

With  a  flood  of  love  rising  in  her  heart,  Camille 
sprang  forward,  but  he  turned  from  her.  A  low, 
broken  sob  burst  from  her  lips,  and  Gwendolyn, 
catching  her  in  her  arms,  asked  with  tears  in  her 
voice : 

"  Don't  you  pity  Diane?     Can't  you  forgive  her?  " 

"  Yes,  Mademoiselle,"  Feleki  said  with  an  effort, 
turning  back,  "  I  do  pity  Diane  and  I  have  forgiven 
her  for  every  capricious  thing  she  ever  has  done,  but 
she  " —  pointing  to  Camille  — "  ceased  to  be  Diane 
when  she  went  away  with  the  Prince  de  Bourbon. 


THE     FLAME  287 

My  Diane  died  when  Camille  Dubray  was  born. 
Don't  think  me  cruel  and  heartless,  Miss  Rolfe,  for  I 
feel  the  deepest  sympathy  for  Mademoiselle  Dubray, 
and  I  would  help  her  in  every  way  within  my  power. 
There  is  nothing  I  would  refuse  her,  but  —  she  is 
not  Diane!  " 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that !  "  Gwendolyn  implored,  as 
Camille  shrank  closer  in  her  embrace.  "  She  is 
Diane,  and  always  will  be.  Say  rather  that  she  is 
not  Camille  Dubray,  the  woman  born  in  a  hypnotic 
snare." 

Camille's  arms  tightened  around  Gwendolyn,  but 
she  said  in  a  low,  stifled  tone :  "  He  is  right.  You 
don't  understand.  His  Diane  never  could  be  what 
I  am  now,"  and  she  drew  away  from  Gwendolyn. 

"  Let  us  say  good-by !  "  Feleki  said.  "  I  have 
borne  so  much,  I  have  suffered  so  keenly,  that  I  can 
not  endure  any  more.  It  is  killing  me.  I  am  living 
in  a  world  alone;  my  only  companions  are  a  memory 
and  my  violin."  He  paused  until  he  could  master  his 
emotions,  then  added :  "  Good-by,  Miss  Rolfe.  I 
hope  we  shall  meet  again."  He  went  towards  her  and 
extended  his  hand. 

She  took  it,  and  he  stooped  and  lightly  kissed  her 
fingers.  Before  he  could  draw  away,  she  slipped 
Camille's  hand  into  his. 

While  he  hesitated,  with  distress  drawing  the  mus 
cles  of  his  white  face,  Camille's  eyes  devoured  him 
with  an  absorbing,  hopeless  love.  All  the  color  had 
fled  from  her  cheeks,  and  Gwendolyn  caught  her, 
fearing  that  she  would  fall. 

At  last,  Feleki  tremblingly  stooped  and  kissed  her 


288  THE     FLAME 

hand,  and  his  lips  lingered  a  moment.  When  he 
straightened  up,  his  eyes  were  closed,  and  as  he 
opened  them,  they  were  looking  into  a  world  that 
Gwendolyn  did  not  know.  All  the  genius,  all  the  pas 
sion  for  his  art  and  Diane,  were  burning  in  his  soft 
brown  eyes,  and  as  he  turned  away,  a  look  of  enrap 
tured  inspiration  beautified  his  pale,  classical  face. 
He  silently  walked  from  the  room  without  looking 
back. 

Camille  sprang  forward.  She  could  not  lose  him! 
He  was  hers !  He  loved  her !  They  had  been  made 
for  each  other. 

Gwendolyn  seized  her  arm.  "  Don't  go  to  him !  " 
she  whispered.  "  I  believe  a  sacred  voice  has  told 
him  that  he  will  find  his  Diane  again.  Have  courage 
and  wait." 

With  a  low,  broken  cry,  Camille  sank  in  a  chair 
and  burst  into  passionate  tears.  Gwendolyn  knelt 
beside  her  and  held  her  in  a  close  embrace.  The  two 
women  so  entirely  unlike,  were  filled  with  an  undying 
sympathy  for  each  other,  and  the  memory  of  this 
sweet  girl's  compassion  shed  forever  after  a  soothing, 
hopeful  light  over  Camille's  unfortunate  life. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

RICHARD  came  home  early,  intending  to  take 
Gwendolyn  to  call  on  some  friends  who  had 
just  arrived  in  San  Francisco,  coming  from  New 
York.  When  he  opened  the  front  door,  he  was  met 
by  James,  whose  countenance  plainly  showed  anxiety. 
After  giving  him  a  second  quick  glance,  Richard  asked 
for  his  sister. 

"  She  is  in  the  music-room.  There  is  a  lady  with 
her,"  he  hesitated,  "  the  beautiful  lady  who  sang  at 
the  musicale,  and, —  pardon  me,  Mr.  Rolfe,  but  I 
heard  some  heartbroken  sobs  not  long  ago  and  it 
startled  me.  It  has  been  about  fifteen  minutes  since 
Mr.  Feleki  left." 

James  had  lived  in  the  Rolfe  family  since  Gwendo 
lyn  was  a  little  child,  and  he  felt  the  deepest  affection 
for  her. 

Without  waiting  to  answer,  Richard  hastened  to  the 
music-room,  opened  the  door,  and  abruptly  halted, 
surprised  at  the  scene  before  him.  Gwendolyn,  still 
on  her  knees  beside  Camille,  was  holding  the  singer's 
hand  and  looking  up  into  her  white,  tear-stained  face 
with  encouragement  and  sympathy. 

"  Dick !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  he  quickly  went  for 
ward.  "  I  am  glad  you  have  come." 

Camille  rose,  and  turning  aside,  wiped  her  eyes. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  Richard  asked  with  concern. 


290  THE     FLAME 

"  Oh,  Dick !  "  Gwendolyn  threw  her  arms  around 
her  brother  and  hid  her  face  in  his  coat.  "  It  is  aw 
ful,  av/ful !  You  were  right  about  him.  I  have  been 
such  a  blind,  foolish  girl !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  Bourbon  ?  "  he  asked,  gently  strok 
ing  her  hair. 

"  Yes." 

Camille  turned  back  to  Richard  and  met  his  search 
ing,  inquiring  gaze. 

"  I  feared  that  Bourbon  was  visiting  here  with  the 
intention  of  winning  your  sister,"  she  said  with  an 
effort,  for  her  voice  was  still  unsteady,  "  and  I  came 
to  tell  her  what  he  is." 

"  God  bless  you  for  it !  "  Richard  fervently  said. 
"  I  have  warned  her  from  the  first,  but  she  thought 
me  suspicious." 

"  Oh,  Dick,  forgive  me !  "  Gwendolyn  drew  away, 
and  dropping  into  a  chair,  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands.  "  I  never  will  be  foolish  again !  Tell  him 
your  story,  Diane." 

"  Diane !  "  he  quickly  echoed. 

"  Yes.      She  is  Diane  Godin." 

An  exclamation  of  surprise  slipped  from  Rich 
ard's  lips  and  the  glance  he  flashed  to  Camille  asked 
for  an  explanation. 

Slowly,  falteringly,  she  told  again  the  story  of  her 
life  as  she  had  related  it  to  Gwendolyn,  but  it  had 
a  more  pathetic  ring,  for  her  meeting  with  Janos  and 
his  silent  departure  had  broken  her  and  every  word 
quivered  with  tearful  despair. 

Richard,  sitting  opposite  her,  did  not  once  glance 
away,  and  as  he  listened,  a  dangerous  light  flared  in 


THE     FLAME  291 

his  steel-gray  eyes  and  two  red  spots  began  to  burn 
on  his  cheeks.  He  had  believed  that  Bourbon's  life 
had  not  been  any  too  clean,  but  he  had  not  suspected 
the  extent  of  his  corruption.  He  had  permitted  this 
disreputable  fellow  to  visit  his  home  as  a  friend !  He 
had  let  him  play  the  devoted  cavalier  to  his  sister! 
Hot  blood  surged  through  him,  and  while  Camille  was 
telling  of  Bourbon's  abject  poverty  and  determination 
to  win  an  heiress,  Richard,  unable  to  sit  quiet,  began 
to  pace  the  floor  with  long,  impatient  strides. 

Gwendolyn  watched  him  with  anxiety.  She  never 
before  had  seen  him  in  such  a  rage,  and  feared  for 
what  he  might  do. 

Camille  saw  the  tempest  driving  through  him,  but 
she  did  not  modify  her  accusations  against  Jean 
Marie;  instead,  she  told  of  his  deceit  and  treachery 
in  more  vivid  and  forcible  words.  When  she  had  fin 
ished,  her  searching  eyes  were  resting  on  Richard, 
endeavoring  to  read  his  inmost  thoughts. 

A  time  passed  in  silence,  while  he  still  paced  the 
floor,  but  presently  he  paused  before  her. 

"  Words  cannot  express  my  gratitude,"  he  said, 
"  for  your  kindness  in  laying  bare  his  life.  I  didn't 
imagine  that  his  career  had  been  so  vile.  If  there  is 
any  way  in  which  we  can  aid  you,  I  beg  of  you  to 
speak." 

Camille  shook  her  head.  "  You  have  repaid  me 
bountifully  by  consenting  to  listen."  She  rearranged 
her  veil,  making  ready  to  leave.  "  I  never  can  for 
get  the  friendly  courtesy  that  you  and  your  sister 
have  shown  me.  It  has  brought  a  ray  of  sunshine 
into  my  dark  life."  Turning  to  Gwendolyn,  she 


292  THE     FLAME 

added,  "  You  have  stamped  an  indelible  memory  of 
your  dear  self  in  my  heart,  Mademoiselle,  and  I  wish 
you  every  joy  that  this  capricious  life  can  give." 

She  extended  her  hand,  but  Gwendolyn  threw  her 
arms  about  her  and  pressed  a  tender  kiss  upon  the 
beautiful  lips  from  whose  touch  Janos  had  shrunk. 
Tears  rose  again  to  Camille's  eyes,  and  she  drew  the 
girl  close  to  her  aching  heart. 

Richard  felt  a  tightening  in  his  throat  as  he 
watched  Gwendolyn  clinging  with  affection  to  this 
beautiful  outcast  and  saw  the  deep  sympathy  between 
them.  He  did  not  feel  any  apprehension  because  his 
sister  had  been  given  an  insight  into  a  life  like  Ca 
mille's  and  instead  of  shrinking  from  the  woman, 
loved  her.  He  was  proud  that  she  could  understand 
and  appreciate  the  worth  in  the  singer  and  the  chas 
tity  of  her  undying  love  for  Feleki. 

"  Good-by,"  he  said,  feelingly,  as  he  took  Camille's 
extended  hand  with  a  friendly  grasp.  "  I  heartily 
thank  you  again  for  what  you  have  done,  and 
want  you  to  remember  that  we  owe  you  an  eternal 
debt." 

As  Camille  left  the  room,  Gwendolyn  went  with  her, 
holding  her  hand.  She  was  loath  to  leave  the  woman 
whose  life  had  been  so  unfortunate.  She  wanted  to 
say  one  last  word  of  comfort,  and  as  James  opened 
the  door,  after  giving  Camille  a  furtive  glance,  Gwen 
dolyn  said,  her  voice  vibrant  with  faith  and  compas 
sion: 

"  Don't  lose  heart,  Diane.  He  is  going  to  see  it  all 
as  it  is,  some  day.  Have  courage  and  wait.  I  know 
there  is  happiness  before  you." 


THE     FLAME  293 

Camille  pressed  her  hand  and  hope  sprang  into  her 
eyes,  for  the  girl's  tone  rang  with  conviction,  and 
perhaps  she  might  be  right.  As  Camille  went  down 
the  steps  and  entered  her  motor-car,  she  glanced  back. 
Gwendolyn  was  standing  in  the  doorway,  waiting  to 
wave  the  last  farewell,  and  joy  rose  in  Camille's  heart, 
for  the  gloom  she  had  anticipated  had  not  settled  so 
dismally  over  the  home. 

Gwendolyn  went  back  into  the  music-room,  but 
Richard  was  not  there,  and  she  did  not  go  in  search 
of  him,  for  she  wanted  to  be  alone  to  think  over  the 
sudden,  shocking  change  that  had  come  into  her  life. 
It  seemed  as  though  she  were  many  years  older  and 
had  been  out  into  the  world  and  learned  what  life  is. 
The  thought  of  Jean  Marie  stirred  in  her  heart  noth 
ing  but  repulsion  and  bitter  indignation,  and  all  the 
tender  feeling  that  she  had  had  for  him  turned  to 
scorn  and  resentment.  She  well  understood  how  Ca 
mille  had  been  ensnared  by  his  fascinating  manner 
and  poetic  love,  and  she  shuddered  at  the  remembrance 
of  his  unclean,  degraded  touch.  She  did  not  intend 
to  see  him  again,  yet  she  wanted  him  to  know  that 
she  now  understood  and  despised  him  for  his  lies  and 
hypocrisy.  She  could  no  more  forgive  him  for  seek 
ing  her  for  her  fortune  than  she  could  for  deceitfully 
leading  Camille  into  a  life  of  shame. 

It  would  not  be  as  humiliating  for  Gwendolyn  to 
see  Richard  as  to  meet  Cavarodossi,  for  she  feared 
that  he,  too,  might  learn  what  Jean  Marie's  life  had 
been  and  know  how  easily  she  had  been  deceived  by 
his  suave,  aristocratic  manner.  She  hated  his  title 
and  everything  pertaining  to  nobility,  for  she  believed 


294  THE     FLAME 

it  had  been  this  that  had  attracted  her  as  much  as  his 
romantic  devotion. 

Hearing  Richard  coming  down  the  stairs,  she  went 
out  into  the  hall  to  meet  him.  James  was  on  his  way 
to  answer  the  bell.  Jean  Marie  entered  with  his  hap 
piest  smile.  It  was  four  o'clock,  the  hour  he  always 
called,  and  Richard  had  espied  him  coming.  Seeing 
Gwendolyn,  Jean  uttered  a  joyful  exclamation  and 
hurried  towards  her. 

Impetuous  anger  and  outraged  pride  sent  rich 
blood  to  her  cheeks,  and  drawing  herself  up,  she  sur 
veyed  him  with  scorn  and  disgust.  The  burning 
light  in  her  eyes  lashed  him  with  bitter  contempt,  and 
he  fell  back  a  step  before  the  girl  who  faced  him  now 
a  fearless,  defiant  woman. 

"  Gwendolyn  !  "  he  exclaimed.     "  What  is  it?  " 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  you,"  she  answered,  and 
sweeping  past  him,  went  into  the  library,  closing  the 
door  behind  her,  but  she  threw  herself  into  a  chair  and 
burst  into  tears  not  only  of  self-disgust,  but  of  disap 
pointment,  yet  she  was  ashamed  to  acknowledge  this 
even  to  herself. 

As  Jean  Marie's  eyes  followed  her,  his  face  went 
white. 

Richard  came  forward  and  said  with  an  effort  to 
control  his  rage: 

"  Please  step  into  the  music-room.  I  have  some 
thing  to  say  to  you." 

Inwardly  Jean  Marie  recoiled  and  terror  stole 
over  him,  but  Richard  did  not  know  it,  for,  forcing 
a  look  of  keen  distress,  the  Prince  said :  "  I  shall  be 
glad  to  speak  with  you  privately,  Mr.  Rolfe,  and 


THE     FLAME  295 

learn  how  I  have  had  the  great  misfortune  to  incur 
your  sister's  displeasure." 

Richard  waited  until  the  Prince  had  entered  the 
music-room,  then  went  in  and  closed  the  door. 

Jean  Marie  was  standing  before  the  empty  fire 
place,  resting  his  elbow  on  the  mantel.  His  bowed 
head,  his  drooping  shoulders,  suggested  the  attitude 
of  an  exhausted  man  sinking  beneath  a  weight.  When 
Richard  closed  the  door,  the  Prince  quickly  swung 
round,  squaring  his  shoulders  and  raising  his  head 
with  pride  and  quiet  dignity. 

For  a  moment  Richard  stood  rigid  with  his  fists 
clenched,  struggling  to  suppress  his  desire  to  thrash 
this  rascal  who  had  come  dishonestly  into  his  home. 
The  dangerous  light  burning  in  his  eyes  warned  Jean 
Marie  of  his  betrayal,  and  overcome  by  a  torrent  of 
desperate  fear,  he  trembled  inwardly  before  this  stal 
wart  American.  But  who  had  betrayed  him, —  Fe- 
leki  or  Camille? 

"  I  fear  there  is  some  unpleasant  misunderstanding, 
Mr.  Rolfe,"  he  cautiously  said. 

"  '  Misunderstanding,'  "  Richard  repeated,  inter 
rupting  him.  "  Yes,  that  is  it,  and  I  want  you  to 
know  that  we  are  no  longer  deceived." 

"  You  astonish  me,  Monsieur ! "  Jean  Marie  ex 
claimed  with  well-feigned  surprise,  but  his  blood  ran 
cold. 

Richard,  without  heeding  him,  went  on,  his  anger 
increasing  with  every  word :  "  When  my  sister  first 
wished  to  invite  you  to  our  home,  I  was  reluctant  in 
giving  my  consent,  not  because  I  knew  anything 
against  you,  but  because  I  am  skeptical  when  a  noble- 


296  THE     FLAME 

man  establishes  himself  for  a  prolonged  visit  in  Amer 
ica.  His  reason  is  usually  too  obvious.  You  have 
the  bearing  of  a  gentleman,  and  because  Gwendolyn 
thought  it  unfair  to  be  suspicious  of  you,  I  have  per 
mitted  you  to  call  here.  Fortunately  I  have  learned 
of  my  mistake  before  any  serious  damage  has  been 
done.  I  heard  to-day  that  you  are  a  dissolute,  de 
graded  man  beneath  the  notice  of  a  gentleman." 

Jean  Marie,  enraged,  took  a  threatening  step  to 
wards  Richard,  but  the  sturdy  banker  held  his  ground 
and  went  on  unheedingly : 

"  You  are  a  social  outcast  in  Paris,  dishonest  in 
gambling  and  swamped  with  debts  that  have  made 
you  flee  to  America  to  save  yourself  by  enticing  a 
wealthy  girl  into  marriage,  but  when  you  took  my 
home  for  a  hunting-ground,  you  made  a  great  mis 
take.  The  castle  you  have  talked  of  is  not  yours  and 
you  haven't  a  cent  in  the  world  to  call  your  own. 
Perhaps  you  think  your  title  is  a  worthy  exchange 
for  a  hard-earned  American  fortune,  but  no  level 
headed  girl  over  here  is  going  to  marry  a  disreputable 
rogue  just  to  flaunt  a  high-sounding  name.  Usually 
something  is  wrong  when  you  fellows  come  over  here 
looking  for  a  wife,  and  your  case  proves  it.  You 
never  fall  in  love  with  a  poor  girl;  it  is  always  the 
girl  with  millions,  who  can  renovate  your  musty  pal 
aces  and  pay  your  hounding  creditors.  Some  of  our 
girls  are  foolish  enough  to  become  a  nobleman's  last 
resort,  but  not  my  sister." 

The  tumultuous  emotions  surging  through  Jean 
Marie  choked  his  voice.  He  believed  that  Camille 
had  betrayed  him,  and  now  he  was  absolutely  desti- 


THE     FLAME  297 

tute,  ruined  and  despised.  He  scarcely  heard  what 
Richard  was  saying,  for  the  tempest  sweeping  through 
him,  stunned  and  deafened  him.  He  felt  like  a 
drowning  man  who  sees  the  last  substantial  aid  drift 
from  his  frantic  grasp.  Richard's  resonant,  heavy 
voice  gave  him  a  sudden  shock  when  he  spoke 
again : 

"  Now  that  it  has  been  discovered  what  you  are, 
you  must  leave  San  Francisco  immediately,  for  you 
are  not  fit  to  be  received  in  the  drawing-rooms  of  re 
spectable  families.  If  you  do  not  leave  within  a 
week,  I'll  publicly  expose  your  vile  life." 

Jean  Marie  summoned  enough  courage  to  say  in  a 
tone  that  sounded  hollow  and  unnatural: 

"  I  know  that  Camille  Dubray  has  been  telling  you 
these  wild  stories  concerning  me.  Would  you  take 
the  word  of  a  vulgar  courtesan  in  preference  to  that 
of  a  gentleman?  She  has  lied  to  you." 

"  Don't  you  dare  cast  a  slur  upon  that  unfortunate 
woman !  "  Richard  fiercely  exclaimed.  "  You  are  a 
scoundrel  of  the  most  contemptible  type,  and  I  want 
you  to  leave  this  house  at  once !  "  He  went  to  the 
door  and  after  flinging  it  open,  pointed  to  it  with  an 
abrupt  command  that  was  almost  a  threat. 

Jean  Marie  staggered  back.  Hot  blood  rushed  to 
his  face,  then  left  it  ashen.  He  tried  to  speak,  but 
his  voice  failed  him.  How  he  left  the  room,  he  never 
knew,  but  when  he  reached  the  hall,  Richard's  voice 
came  to  him  like  a  sickening  blow: 

"  Put  this  fellow  out,  James,  and  never  admit  him 
again." 

Jean  Marie  passed  out  under  the  amused,  sarcastic 


298  THE     FLAME 

smile  that  lighted  the  servant's  eyes,  and  staggered 
down  the  steps  like  a  drunken  man. 

James  watched  him  until  he  was  out  of  sight,  then 
stepped  aside  to  let  Cavarodossi  enter.  Mario  had 
passed  Jean  Marie  at  the  foot  of  the  marble  steps 
and  had  raised  his  hat,  but  the  Prince  had  not  no 
ticed  him. 

Richard  was  in  the  hall,  his  eyes  still  ablaze. 
Quickly  going  forward,  Cavarodossi  asked  what  had 
occurred. 

"  He  is  a  beggarly,  dishonorable  scoundrel,  and  I 
have  thrown  him  out  forever." 

Cavarodossi  wrung  Richard's  hand.  "  Then  the 
singer  has  told  you  everything?  " 

"  Did  you  know  it,  also?  " 

"  Yes,  but  it  wasn't  my  place  to  tell  you,  because 
.  .  .  I  love  your  sister,  and  I  didn't  want  you  to 
think  that  I  was  taking  an  unfair  advantage  of  any 
man,  especially  of  Bourbon,  for  she  seemed  to  favor 
him." 

Richard,  still  holding  Cavarodossi's  hand,  gave  it 
a  hearty  shake.  "  I  want  you  to  win  her,"  he  said. 
"  She  despises  Bourbon  now.  She  is  in  the  library. 
Go  to  her  and  make  her  understand  that  she  is  not 
to  blame.  I  know  she  is  overcome  with  humiliation." 
He  returned  to  the  music-room,  leaving  Mario  alone. 

Quickly  going  across  the  hall,  Cavarodossi  opened 
the  library  door,  without  waiting  to  knock.  He 
found  Gwendolyn  huddled  in  a  forlorn  heap  in  a 
great  Turkish  chair,  sobbing.  With  a  low  exclama 
tion  of  pain  and  sympathy,  he  hurried  forward  and 
knelt  beside  her. 


THE     FLAME  299 

"  Don't !  "  he  begged,  taking  her  hand.  "  Don't ! 
He  isn't  worth  your  tears.  I  know  the  horrible  story 
you  have  heard." 

She  sprang  up,  and  turning  away,  struggled  to 
master  her  emotions.  "  I  wish  you  hadn't  seen  me 
like  this,"  she  said  in  a  tremulous,  muffled  tone. 
"  I'm  not  crying  for  him.  It's  because  I've  been  so 
foolish." 

Mario  rose  and  went  to  her.  "  You  mustn't  re 
proach  yourself.  How  could  you  understand  his 
treachery,  when  he  has  deceived  men  who  know  the 
world  as  you  never  can  know  it." 

"  But  I  should  have  suspected !  I  shouldn't  have 
listened  to  him!  When  he  lavished  foolish  flattery 
on  me,  I  should  have  known  that  he  was  insincere. 
Oh,  it  is  so  mortifying!  The  public  may  learn  of 
this !  " 

Her  despairing,  heartbroken  sob  stirred  all  the  love 
and  pity  in  Cavarodossi's  heart,  and  springing  for 
ward,  he  impulsively  clasped  her  in  his  arms.  "  He 
must  leave  the  city  before  any  one  can  know  there 
is  something  wrong,"  he  said.  "  Don't  cry ! 
Don't!" 

Gwendolyn  caught  a  quick,  startled  breath  when 
she  felt  herself  enveloped  in  his  strong,  defending 
embrace,  but  he  was  so  unmistakably  noble  and  sin 
cere  and  his  voice  was  so  gentle  and  vibrant  with  love, 
that  she  did  not  draw  away.  Somehow  it  seemed 
as  though  she  belonged  there,  for  he  had  been  her 
ideal  since  she  first  had  known  him,  and  it  was  only 
Jean  Marie's  poisonous  attraction  that  had  brought 
a  cloud  between  her  heart  and  Cavarodossi's.  Re- 


300  THE     FLAME 

membering  how  the  Prince  had  folded  her  in  his 
wanton  arms,  she  shrank  closer  to  Mario,  for  his 
tender  embrace  seemed  like  a  haven  after  having 
been  madly  tossed  through  a  mighty,  perilous  storm. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

JEAN  MARIE  went  back  to  the  Fairmont, 
stunned  by  desperation,  and  when  he  entered  the 
hotel,  it  was  some  time  before  he  knew  which  way 
to  turn  to  find  the  elevator.  He  struggled  to  appear 
calm,  but  knew  that  everyone  who  passed  him  gave 
him  a  second  surprised  glance.  He  did  not  know 
when  he  reached  his  floor,  and  as  the  elevator  boy 
said,  "  Your  Highness !  "  he  started  and  hurried  out, 
after  giving  the  attendant  an  abrupt  nod.  Fearing 
that  he  would  meet  someone  in  the  corridor,  he  went 
to  his  rooms  as  quickly  as  he  could.  The  silent  and 
dignified  Fra^ois  could  not  restrain  a  startled  ex 
clamation  when  the  Prince  appeared,  but  Jean 
Marie  did  not  notice  him  and  the  valet  discreetly 
withdrew. 

Jean  Marie  hastened  into  his  bedroom  and  eagerly 
drained  a  glass  of  absinthe,  for  he  felt  a  weakness 
stealing  over  him  and  his  thoughts  were  in  wild  con 
fusion.  One  fact  alone  clung  to  him, —  that  he  was 
abandoned,  penniless.  Throwing  himself  into  a  Mor 
ris  chair,  he  waited  with  feverish  impatience  for  the 
liquor  to  regulate  his  thoughts. 

He  could  not  forget  the  picture  of  Gwendolyn 
standing  before  him,  resolute,  defiant, —  this  girl 
whom  he  twice  had  deceived  and  ensnared  even  with 

appearances    strongly    against    him.     And    he    had 

301 


302  THE     FLAME 

been  vanquished  by  Camille,  a  cafe  courtesan!  He 
believed  he  could  have  gained  Gwendolyn's  consent 
to  marry  him,  even  against  her  brother's  wishes,  but 
now  his  last  hope  had  been  dashed,  for  Camille  had 
come  between  them,  a  living,  menacing  proof  of  his 
debauchery,  causing  him  to  be  grossly  insulted  by 
Richard  Rolfe,  and  ridiculed  by  a  vulgar  servant  f 
He  knew  that  he  must  leave  the  city  at  once,  as  Rich 
ard  had  warned  him,  for  Mr.  Rolfe  would  fulfill  his 
threat  to  denounce  him  publicly ;  furthermore,  he  had 
no  money  with  which  to  pay  his  debts,  and  they  had 
run  into  hundreds  of  dollars.  But  if  he  slipped  away 
secretly  to  avoid  his  creditors,  he  would  receive  a 
newspaper  notoriety  that  would  brand  him  a  rascal 
throughout  the  country.  If  he  should  borrow 
enough  money  of  Dubois  to  pay  his  debts  in  San 
Francisco,  what  could  he  do  in  the  next  city  to  which 
he  might  go? 

Despair  and  rage  swept  through  him,  for  he  knew 
that  to  Camille  alone  he  could  look  for  support, — 
if  she  would  accept  him  again.  But  how  could  he 
go  back  to  her  after  having  attempted  to  take  her 
life? 

Burning  perspiration  trickled  from  his  brow,  and 
the  torment  of  hopelessness  that  held  him  as  in  a 
vise,  almost  robbed  him  of  his  reason.  All  the  peace 
and  happiness  of  this  world  had  dissolved  beneath 
him,  letting  him  fall  into  chaos,  and  there  was  no  way 
out. 

He  did  not  eat  any  dinner,  and  Fran£ois  dared 
not  disturb  him.  All  night  he  sat  in  the  chair,  and 
it  was  not  until  nearly  morning  that  he  fell  into 


THE     FLAME  303 

a  light,  uneasy  sleep.  At  daybreak  he  awoke  with 
a  start,  for  he  had  been  dreaming  that  Camille  had 
taken  him  back  to  Paris  where  he  was  forced  to  live 
as  a  social  outcast,  receiving  attention  only  from 
men  who  wished  his  aid  in  winning  Camille's  favors. 
He  sprang  from  his  chair,  cold,  weak,  and  trembling. 
His  dream  would  be  a  reality  if  he  were  forced  to  re 
turn  to  France.  Any  city  in  the  world  was  prefer 
able  to  Paris  or  San  Francisco,  but  where  could  he 
go  to  find  peace?  .  .  .  Nowhere. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  he  forced  himself  to  call 
on  Camille.  It  was  a  long  distance  to  her  hotel, 
but  he  walked,  for  he  was  stifling.  As  he  passed 
along  the  broad  paved  streets,  they  appeared  narrow 
and  cramped,  and  the  tall  buildings  seemed  to  be 
tottling  over  his  head.  When  he  reached  the  hotel 
and  was  in  the  corridor  leading  to  her  rooms,  his 
heart  suddenly  ceased  its  mad  beating,  and  swayed 
by  the  sickening  dread  that  stole  over  him,  he  clutched 
at  the  high  wainscoting  and  clung  to  it  until  he  could 
master  himself  sufficiently  to  go  on. 

He  found  Camille's  reception-room  door  ajar  and 
heard  her  within,  humming  a  soft,  plaintive  air. 
Could  he  face  this  woman  who  knew  him  to  be  a 
foiled  assassin?  Some  time  passed  before  he  could 
force  himself  to  enter,  but  suddenly,  with  a  reckless 
hand,  he  flung  open  the  door  and  went  in. 

Camille,  in  a  pale  blue  lounging  dress,  clinging 
softly  around  her,  stood  at  the  center  table  sorting 
over  some  music.  As  Jean  Marie  entered,  she 
glanced  up,  and  surprise  flashed  into  her  eyes,  for 
he  looked  haggard,  desperate,  careworn,  absolutely 


304  THE     FLAME 

hopeless.  He  faced  her  with  a  sort  of  frightened 
defiance  and  waited  for  her  to  speak. 

A  smile  of  intense  satisfaction  rose  to  her  lips,  for 
she  understood. 

"  Well,  Jean,  you  are  quite  a  stranger !  "  she  said 
lightly,  with  a  playful  tone  in  her  rich  voice.  "  I 
thought  you  had  deserted  me." 

Wild  joy  shot  through  him.  She  had  not  aban 
doned  him ;  but  the  next  instant  his  delight  turned 
to  the  maddening  realization  of  what  his  life  would 
be  with  her, —  the  price  he  must  pay.  He  did  not 
speak,  but  went  farther  into  the  room,  and  glancing 
through  the  open  door  into  her  bedroom,  saw  her 
trunks  open  and  a  heap  of  clothing  thrown  over  a 
chair  that  stood  beside  one  of  them. 

"  What  are  you  doing?  "  he  quickly  asked. 

"  Packing.  Celeste  has  gone  to  get  tickets." 
With  a  tinge  of  teasing  sarcasm  in  her  tone,  she 
answered  the  desperate  question  that  flashed  into  his 
eyes.  "  No,  I  haven't  forgotten  you.  You  are  go 
ing,  also." 

Some  seconds  passed  before  he  hoarsely  asked, 
"Where?" 

"  Paris,  of  course ! "  She  coldly  watched  the 
spasm  of  revolt  that  drove  through  him,  and  knew 
the  misery  that  was  tearing  his  heart.  He  did  not 
reply ;  he  could  not,  and  she  added :  "  We  must  have 
a  final  understanding.  Sit  down,  Jean." 

He  shot  her  a  quick,  alarmed  glance,  and  as  he 
searched  her  face,  he  noticed  what  he  had  not  seen 
before,  that  the  brilliant  glow  in  her  eyes  was  softened 
and  her  features  seemed  to  be  molded  with  more 


THE     FLAME  305 

tenderness.  He  slowly  took  the  chair  nearest  him 
and  she  sat  on  the  divan  by  the  window.  He  had 
a  sudden  presentiment  that  some  new  calamity  was 
coming  into  his  life,  and  his  heart  throbbed  pain 
fully. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  continue  the  life  I  have  been 
living,"  she  said  quietly  and  firmly. 

He  caught  a  quick  breath  and  gazed  at  her  with 
puzzled  astonishment. 

Calm  determination  shone  in  her  eyes,  and,  leaning 
forward,  she  nestled  her  elbow  in  the  pillow  on  the 
arm  of  the  divan,  and  rested  her  cheek  in  her  hand. 

"  I  cannot  continue  this  life,"  she  went  on,  and 
her  clear  tones  were  no  longer  tainted  with  cruelty 
or  mockery.  "  The  beautiful  influence  of  my  youth 
has  returned  and  is  calling  me,  and  I  am  going  to 
follow  the  voice  that  will  lead  me  back  to  my  own." 
She  paused  and  drew  a  deep,  refreshing  breath,  for 
hope  and  sweet  remembrance  rose  like  a  perfumed 
mist  before  her  eyes,  shutting  out  Jean  Marie;  but 
when  it  vanished,  she  found  him  watching  her  in  an 
eager,  terrorized  silence. 

"  When  I  came  here  to  San  Francisco,"  she  went 
on,  "  I  had  decided  that  if  you  had  found  success 
over  here  and  were  leading  a  clean,  new  life,  I  would 
share  it  with  you,  but  if  you  had  deceived  me  and 
had  not  changed,  I  intended  to  make  you  return  to 
Paris  and  live  to  the  bitter  end  the  life  into  which 
you  plunged  me.  I  was  going  to  make  you  know  the 
'  glory  '  of  it,  a  '  glory  '  as  terrible  as  that  which 
you  have  made  me  learn.  I  intended  to  give  you 
luxury,  to  let  you  live  as  I  have  lived, —  in  the  out- 


306  THE     FLAME 

ward  heaven  and  the  inward  hell,  but  yesterday  my 
life  abruptly  changed,  when  I  went  and  saw  Miss  Rolf e 
and  told  her  what  you  are."  Camille  slightly  paused, 
for  a  convulsion  of  rage  tore  through  him  and  he 
blanched.  "  I  never  hated  you  as  I  did  then  to  know 
that  you  had  ensnared  that  lovely,  trusting  girl  to 
gain  her  fortune  that  you  might  squander  it  on  the 
vile,  vulgar  life  you  love.  She  is  the  sweetest  crea 
ture  I  ever  have  known,  and  there  is  boundless  joy  in 
my  heart  that  I  could  save  her." 

Jean  Marie  did  not  answer.  There  was  nothing 
he  could  say,  but  he  sat  before  her  robbed  of  every 
spark  of  manly  courage.  The  future  loomed  up  be 
fore  him  like  a  horrible,  repulsive  monster,  and  sick 
ened  at  the  vision  of  it,  he  turned  away  and  closed  his 
dizzy  eyes. 

Camille  watched  him  without  pity.  His  life  was 
ruined  no  more  than  hers  had  been,  and  he  could 
suffer  no  more  than  he  had  made  her  suffer. 

"  Janos  left  for  New  York  last  night,"  she  said, 
"  and  while  I  was  with  Miss  Rolfe,  he  came  to  bid  her 
good-by.  From  the  time  that  I  left  the  Latin  Quar 
ter  with  you  until  my  parting  with  him  yesterday, 
I  have  believed  that  he  was  lost  to  me  forever;  but 
now  hope  has  sprung  into  my  heart,  for  as  he  kissed 
my  hand  when  leaving,  the  look  that  came  into  his 
eyes  was  one  of  an  inspiring  belief  that  he  would 
find  his  Diane  again.  Gwendolyn  begged  me  to  have 
courage  and  wait,  and  I  am  going  to  make  my  life 
pure  as  it  was  when  he  first  loved  me,  for  I  never 
could  win  him  back  living  as  I  am  now.  When  you 
took  me  from  him,  you  robbed  me  of  my  true  self 


THE     FLAME  307 

and  created  instead  Camille  Dubray,  but  she  per 
ished  yesterday  the  instant  that  hope  dawned.  I  am 
going  back  to  Paris,  to  the  Latin  Quarter  where  I 
left  him,  and  work  my  way  up  as  I  should  have  done 
had  I  not  met  you.  I  shall  sing  wherever  I  can 
earn  money,  honest  money,  but  I  shan't  seek  engage 
ments  in  the  cafes  where  you  and  your  friends  placed 
me.  That  life  is  dead,  and  I  want  nothing  that  will 
remind  me  of  it.  I  am  going  to  work  and  struggle 
until  I  reach  him.  Perhaps  I  must  go  through  pov 
erty,  for  in  the  places  where  I  must  go  honest  money 
is  not  easily  earned,  but  privation  will  be  a  joy,  be 
cause  it  will  be  for  him." 

Jean  Marie  sat  watching  her;  a  storm  of  hatred 
and  jealousy,  and  of  fear  of  his  absolute  destitution, 
swept  through  him  with  maddening  force.  What 
was  there  in  life  that  he  could  cling  to?  He  was 
abandoned,  in  debt,  penniless.  Yet  he  could  hardly 
believe  that  she  had  deserted  him, —  this  dashing,  ad 
venturous  girl  whom  he  had  captivated  because  her 
beauty  had  attracted  him  and  because  he  had  known 
that  she  could  earn  a  living  for  him  when  all  other 
resources  failed. 

He  could  see  her  striving  in  poverty  and  rising  to 
success  with  her  talent  and  indomitable  will,  but  he 
knew  that  he  must  struggle  on  for  the  rest  of  his 
days.  His  future  came  before  him  in  vivid  pictures, 
—  the  trickery,  the  scheming  to  which  he  must  resort 
to  earn  a  franc,  and  later  perhaps  to  steal  it.  He 
had  seen  in  the  slums  of  Paris  men  of  good  birth 
who  had  been  dragged  down  by  a  disreputable  life ;  he 
had  seen  them  wallowing  in  the  mire,  the  stamp  of  re- 


308  THE     FLAME 

finement  and  culture  almost  erased  from  their  bloated, 
coarsened  features,  and  he  saw  himself  going  as  they 
had  gone.  He  shuddered  with  horror  and  disgust. 
He  could  not  speak;  his  voice  was  stifled  in  his 
parched  throat. 

Camille  knew  his  agony,  but  she  went  on  unheed- 
ingly :  "  I  intend  to  study  and  improve  my  voice 
so  that  I  can  rise  from  cafe  singing  to  grand  opera. 
I  am  going  to  climb  until  I  reach  Janos's  side,  and 
I  know  that  he  will  forgive  my  degraded  years  as 
Camille  Dubray  and  appreciate  the  fight  I  have  made 
to  become  worthy  of  him.  All  my  ambition,  all  my 
life  is  for  him,  and  I  shall  have  no  thought,  no  image 
before  my  eyes  but  his  face."  She  paused,  and  her 
deep  love  softly  lighted  and  beautified  her  perfect 
features. 

Jean  Marie  trembled  with  jealous  rage.  He  had 
believed  that  her  mockery  and  the  bitter  humiliation 
to  which  she  often  had  subjected  him,  had  killed  his 
feeling  for  her;  he  had  believed  that  not  even  her 
beauty  could  attract  him  any  longer,  but  as  he  saw 
her  pure,  enraptured  joy,  his  infatuation  was  kindled 
again  and  increased  ten-fold,  knowing  that  she  was 
lost  to  him.  As  hard  as  it  had  been  for  him  to  con 
sider  a  future  life  with  her,  just  as  hard  was  it  to 
realize  that  he  must  exist  without  her.  She  had  be 
come  a  part  of  himself  in  the  seven  years  that  they 
had  been  together,  and  how  could  the  intricate  web 
into  which  their  lives  had  been  woven  be  so  suddenly 
torn  asunder?  For  the  moment  even  his  abject  pov 
erty  was  forgotten,  but  she  rudely  brought  him  back 
to  the  remembrance  of  it. 


THE     FLAME  309 

"  I  hope  to  leave  to-morrow  night,"  she  said, 
"  You  can  go  later.  I  shall  furnish  your  steamer 
transportation  to  France.  Do  you  owe  any  money 
here?  " 

A  struggling  pause  passed  before  he  said,  "  Yes, 
seven  hundred  dollars." 

"  I'll  give  you  the  money,  but  I  can't  do  any  more, 
for  after  our  transportation  and  your  debts  are  paid, 
I'll  not  have  more  than  eight  hundred  dollars  left. 
You  can  sell  the  paintings  in  your  rooms,  your 
costly  bric-a-brac  and  jewels,  and  you  can  get  a 
good  sum  for  them.  I  shall  sell  my  jewels,  but  not 
many  of  them  are  real." 

Celeste  entered  through  the  bedroom,  and  pausing 
in  the  doorway  said : 

"  I  have  the  tickets,  Madame,  and  the  berths  for 
to-morrow  night."  She  gave  an  envelope  to  Ca- 
mille  and  went  back  into  the  bedroom  and  closed  the 
door. 

While  Camille  was  examining  the  tickets,  Jean 
Marie  watched  her  with  a  desperation  he  could  hardly 
control.  He  knew  that  in  a  few  moments  he  would 
be  into  the  street  alone,  ruined,  helpless.  His  horri 
ble  future  already  seemed  to  have  clutched  him  with 
an  iron  grasp,  and  the  slums  of  Paris  would  not  van 
ish  from  his  overwrought  mind. 

Without  a  word,  she  laid  his  ticket  on  the  table  and 
went  into  the  next  room. 

He  sprang  up,  and  swayed  by  the  force  of  his 
emotions,  caught  the  back  of  a  chair  to  steady  him 
self.  He  could  not  give  her  up !  His  miserable 
heart  cried  out  for  her.  She  was  the  only  one  to 


310  T  H  E     F  L  A  M  E 

whom  he  could  look  for  help,  and  she  was  leaving  him 
for  love  of  another  man !  Without  her,  he  would  be 
stripped  of  every  comfort  in  life.  He  could  sink 
to  the  depths,  alone,  friendless.  Reason  was  almost 
torn  from  his  distracted  mind,  and  when  Camille  re 
turned,  he  impetuously  swung  round,  but  the  cold 
resolution  in  her  face  froze  the  imploring  words  that 
were  trembling  on  his  white  lips. 

"  Here's  seven  hundred  dollars,  Jean,"  she  said. 

He  seized  the  paper  with  a  miser's  grasp,  but  a 
transitory  shame  stole  over  him  and  he  said : 

"I  can't  take  all  of  this,  Camille.  It  will  leave 
you  so  little." 

She  did  not  betray  her  surprise  at  his  first  gen 
erous  offering.  "  No,  take  it.  I  have  a  way  to  earn 
my  living,  but  you  haven't.  It  will  keep  you  from 
the  inevitable  a  little  longer." 

He  shrank  back. 

"  There  is  much  that  I  wish  to  do,"  she  added 
quietly.  "  You  had  better  go." 

A  shudder  ran  through  him.  Those  were  the  last 
words  she  had  said  the  night  he  made  the  attack  on 
her  life.  If  he  had  not  yielded  to  that  insane  im 
pulse  perhaps  she  would  not  have  turned  from  him 
now. 

"  Don't  desert  me,  Camille,  don't !  "  he  begged. 
"  I  can't  live  without  you.  I  love  you !  "  He  seized 
her  hand  and  eagerly  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 

She  drew  away.  "  No,  you  don't  love  me.  If 
you  did,  you  never  would  have  let  me  lead  this  awful 
life  nor  have  persuaded  me  into  it.  If  you  had 


THE     FLAME  311 

loved  me  truly,  you  would  have  married  me  and 
shielded  me  and  worked  for  me  as  an  honorable  man 
works  for  his  wife.  I  believe  that  from  the  first  all 
you  wanted  of  me  was  what  my  beauty,  would  bring. 
You  ruined  me  and  have  tried  to  hold  me  in  ruin, 
but  I  am  going  to  rise  above  it  and  save  myself.  I 
shall  take  back  my  own  name,  and  my  love  for  Janos 
and  his  for  Diane  will  give  me  strength  to  surmount 
all  hardships.  Every  day  I  shall  struggle  to  kill 
the  memory  of  you  and  the  life  we  have  lived  to 
gether.  Dear  Gwendolyn  truthfully  called  Camille 
Dubray  a  '  woman  born  in  a  hypnotic  snare,'  but 
the  poisonous  influence  that  made  her,  has  lost  its 
fatal  power.  Until  this  hope  of  re-winning  Janos 
came  to  me,  I  hated  you,  but  now  that  I  see  my  way 
back  to  him,  I  feel  pity  for  you,  because  I  know  that 
you  are  not  man  enough  to  fight  for  an  honest  living. 
I  have  done  all  I  can.  Now  go."  She  took  the 
ticket  from  the  table  and  gave  it  to  him. 

A  sudden  weakness  stole  over  him  and  his  heart 
was  wildly  throbbing.  Twice  in  two  days  he  had 
been  ordered  into  the  street, —  he,  the  Prince  of  Bour 
bon,  was  an  outcast.  Every  hope  had  perished. 
Without  another  glance  at  Camille,  he  caught  up 
his  hat  and  staggered  from  the  room.  He  had  a 
few  more  hours  to  spend  in  luxurious  apartments, 
but  they  were  to  be  hours  of  horror  and  delirium, 
while  Fran9ois  sold  the  princely  belongings  for  the 
highest  price. 

Camille  watched  Jean  Marie  as  he  disappeared, 
and  hopeful  joy  rose  in  her,  for  she  believed  that  free- 


312  THE     FLAME 

dom  from  him  was  the  first  and  greatest  aid  towards 
salvation  and  Janos.  While  her  faith  and  hope  were 
brightest,  she  wrote  to  Gwendolyn. 

The  next  evening  Cavarodossi  went  to  the  station 
to  bid  Camille  good-by  and  give  her  a  large  cluster 
of  white  roses  from  Gwendolyn.  As  she  saw  him 
stepping  into  her  car,  she  hastened  forward  with  an 
exclamation  of  delight. 

"  How  good  of  you  to  come !  "  she  said,  taking  his 
hand  in  both  of  hers,  then  gathered  the  beautiful 
roses  to  her  heart.  "  I  had  anticipated  a  lonely  de 
parture,  as  only  you  and  the  Rolfes  know  that  I  am 
leaving." 

"  Miss  Rolfe  sends  you  her  love,"  he  said,  "  and 
has  given  me  a  letter  for  you." 

Camille  took  it,  pleasure  and  gratitude  lighting  her 
eyes. 

"  You  all  have  been  so  good  to  me."  Her  voice 
trembled. 

"  No  better  than  we  should  have  been,"  he  said, 
feelingly.  "  I  never  can  express  my  appreciation  of 
the  kindly  way  in  which  you  tore  the  deceptive  cov 
ering  from  Bourbon's  wretched  life  and  helped  me 
win  the  girl  who  is  dearer  to  me  than  all  the  world. 
Gwendolyn  let  me  read  your  letter,  and  I  am  positive 
that  your  noble  struggle  will  take  you  back  to  Janos. 
Don't  falter,  don't  fear.  Happiness  is  before  you." 

When  he  left,  he  turned  back  before  stepping  from 
the  car  and  saw  her  standing  with  the  flowers  clasped 
lovingly  in  her  arms  and  her  face  buried  in  the 
pure,  white  petals. 


THE     FLAME  313 

Before  the  train  had  started,  Camille  eagerly  read 
Gwendolyn's  letter  written  in  French: 

Dear  Diane: 

Can  you  imagine  my  pleasure  when  I  read 
your  welcome  letter  and  learned  that  I 
helped  awaken  the  hope  in  your  heart  that 
has  led  you  into  a  nobler  life?  Noth 
ing  could  give  me  more  joy  and  satisfac 
tion.  This  alone  is  worth  living  for.  I 
want  to  hear  from  you  again  to  know  how 
you  are  progressing. 

He  has  gone  out  of  my  life  forever,  and 
so  suddenly  that  his  coming  seems  to  have 
been  a  terrible  dream, —  until  I  think 
of  you.  What  a  life  there  is  before  him, 
unless  his  soul  is  deadened  to  all  shame,  and 
surely  that  cannot  be.  I  often  think  of 
what  he  said  one  day,  "  As  ye  sow,  so  shall 
ye  reap !  "  Could  he  have  understood  the 
meaning  of  the  words  and  yet  held  them  in 
such  utter  disregard?  But  think  of  them 
yourself,  Diane.  Now  that  you  are  stepping 
into  a  new  life,  or,  rather,  back  into  the 
old,  what  a  harvest  of  love,  contentment 
and  pride  you  will  reap !  Strive  on,  and 
the  world  will  help  you. 

I  can  see  Janos  before  you  now,  his  face 
inspired  with  the  same  beauty  we  saw  the 
other  day,  but  he  is  holding  out  his  longing 
arms,  and  I  hear  him  say  one  single  word, — 
Diane! 


TRAILS  THROUGH 
WESTERN  WOODS 

By  HELEN  FITZGERALD  SANDERS 

The  author-artist  gives  us  an  idyl  of  forest  trails,  cloud-swept 
mountains,  glacier-born  cascades,  gentle  Selish  and  heart-broken 
Indian  chiefs,  born  to  learn  their  day  is  past.  The  book  will 
widen  the  circles  of  those  who  regret  the  passing  of  the  brave, 
free  life  of  the  wilderness. 


"The  author  deserves  the  gratitude  of  the  American  nation  for  capturing 
the  nebulous  star-mist  of  its  beginnings— and   that  which  went  before." 

Illustrated  by  the  Author.     Colored  end  sheets. 
$2.00  net;  postage  16  cents. 


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NEW   YORK     and     SEATTLE 


THE  MASTER  ROAD 

By  CARLIN  EASTWOOD 


GRATIA  DREXLER,  wealthy,  socially 
elect,  obeys  an  impulse  toward  ex 
pression  leading  her  to  active  settlement 
work  in  the  slums.  Blindly  treading  her 
sweet  way,  she  set  in  motion  forces  whose 
action  and  reaction  on  her  and  on  Hartley 
Taine  is  herein  told  with  a  repression  ad 
mirable  in  its  resultant  heart-grip  and 
dramatic  tenseness. 

The  reader  will  live  every  hour  of  happi 
ness  and  grief,  pain  and  joy  portrayed  with 
such  sure  touch. 

THE     MASTER    ROAD 

will  be  a  greater  play  than  "Salvation 
Nell. ' '  Dramatic  rights  secured  by  America's 
leading  playwright  and  producer.  Sure  to 
have  a  tremendous  success. 

Illustrated,  $1.85  net;  Postage  10  cents 

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AVENUE  NEW    YORK     and     SE  ATTLE  8BuiLmNG 


A  MAN  OF 
TWO  COUNTRIES 

A  POLITICAL  NOVEL 

By  ALICE    HARRIMAN 

Other  books:  STORIES   OF   MONTANA,  SONGS   'o   THE   SOUND,    CHAPERONING 
ADRIENNE  THROUGH  THE  YELLOWSTONE.  SONGS  o*  THE  OLYMPICS 


QUERY.  Why  does 
an  Englishman  ever 
become  an  Ameri 
can? 

TIME.     1878-1891. 
PLACE.  Montana. 

THE  MAN.  A  young 
Englishman. 

THE  GIRL.  There 
are  two. 


A  Man  of 
Two  Countries 

Alice  Harriman. 


A  story  with  hither 
to  unused  local  color 
and  thoroughly 
original  characters 

Illustrated  withpen 
and  ink  chapter 
headings  by  C.  M. 
Dowling. 

Striking  four  color 
wrapper. 


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The  TEMPTATION 
OF  ST.  ANTHONY 

By  GUSTAVE   FLAUBERT 

Translated  by  LAFCADIO  HEARN  Introduction  by  ELIZABETH  BISLAND 


This  translation  of  the  great  French  masterpiece,  which 
has  been  called  "The  Epic  of  the  Human  Soul's  Search 
for  Truth,"  was  recently  discovered  among  Lafcadio 
Hearn's  posthumous  papers.  The  whole  tendency  of 
Hearn's  tastes  fitted  him  especially  of  all  writers  to  turn 
that  masterpiece  into  its  true  English  equivalent. 

The  tortured  Saint  is  whirled  by  vertiginous  visions 
through  cycles  of  man's  efforts  to  know  why?  whence? 
whither?  He  assists  at  the  terrifying  rites  of  Mithra, 
the  prostrations  of  serpent-worshippers  of  fire,  of  light, 
of  the  Greek's  deified  forces  of  nature,  of  the  Northern 
enthronement  of  brute  force  and  war.  Plunges  into 
every  heresy  and  philosophy,  sees  the  orgies,  the  flagel 
lations,  the  self-mutilations,  the  battles  and  furies  of 
sects,  each  convinced  it  has  found  the  answer  to  the 
Great  Question.  His  experiences  startlingly  reproduce 
the  scientific  and  spiritual  researches  of  the  man  of 
to-day. 

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